#Gaz is in trouble after this but he really is just trying to be nice

[ohmygraves]

ghost, but as your fake boyfriend.

you were panicking.

your mother had called earlier, asking if you could come home for a few days. apparently, your brother had returned from overseas, and she called to let you know that every single member of your family would be there. a small family reunion, if you will. of course, she expected you to show up too, perhaps bring that boyfriend of yours you always told them about.

which was a problem because one, you don't have a boyfriend, and two, you have lied to your family for years and now it's come to bite you in the ass.

you didn't even know why you did it in the first place. perhaps the constant pestering and questions about "when will you get married?" is starting to bother you, especially when it came from so many of your relatives, wondering if you'd settle down already instead of being out there in danger all the time. perhaps you just want them to leave you alone and stop worrying about your wellbeing. after all, you're an adult, and it's just annoying to hear the same thing over and over again every single time when you went home for christmas.

so, you created this narrative of a "boyfriend", who you'd talk about when your parents called. a boyfriend who is tall, handsome, and loves you for who you are. a boyfriend who you'd live with and maybe plan on marrying too in the future. a boyfriend that is so much of a textbook nice guy that your family would approve of even if it sounds too good to be true.

you're not sure who to ask. soap would be your best bet, but he would be away on a mission at that date. which was unfortunate, he seemed really excited to play fake boyfriend with you. gaz just ran out of leave for this month, so he's out too. price is too old, your family would question it.

that leaves just one person...

"lt, can you do me a favor? please, just this once."

ghost turned towards you, leaning back and letting you explain. you told him that you need him to be your fake boyfriend for a family event.

unsurprisingly, he was very quick to stand up and leave you alone, not wanting to deal with your bullshit. still, you catch up to him, trying to convince him with whatever it is you could offer.

after a few rounds of convincing, tailing him for three days and nights, constantly pestering him, and some offers of the finest whiskey and whatever he wanted, ghost finally relented. it didn't take long for the two of you to fly back to your hometown two days before the family reunion, the two of you taking a week of leave from the base with very little trouble. you assumed that ghost had something to do with it.

before you arrived, you had to give him a rundown on what to expect, what questions will be asked and how to answer them for it to make sense in the web of lies you've created. he was definitely not thrilled, telling you that he got this... whatever "this" was supposed to be. you were nervous, hoping that things will actually go well.

surprisingly, ghost did keep true to his words. walking into your childhood home, he held your waist, keeping you close to him, even would act nicer to your nosy relatives (which, of course, was not surprising when you feel his grip got tighter around you).

dinner was quite cozy, everyone seemed to enjoy his presence and kept asking you if you two will end up married. ghost said something vague that made you blush, and while it embarrassed you, it got everyone to stop talking about it.

when the crowd dissolved, you took ghost to go see your childhood bedroom, closing the door behind him as you thanked him for doing you a good favor, and that you won't forget all about this. you didn't even realize that he stepped closer to you, too absorbed in gushing how successful the night has been, pulling you close and planting a kiss on your lips. it shut you up.

"... did you just kissed me?"

"mmhm. i reckon i deserve at least that, huh love?"

"i suppose you do..."

he kissed you once more. well, at least you won't have to lie about your fake boyfriend anymore.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[springsylph]

+18, mdni. uhhh tiny gaz x f! reader thing?? i don’t know. wrote this on my phone and she’s unedited. also. the ending is getting cut short because i said so.

mentions of alcohol, fingering, pussy slapping (1)

thinking about introverted reader showing up to a college party with every intention of leaving once that stupid hello kitty clock on the shelf hits 11:30.

it helps that you enter the apartment with your headphones already on; most people weren’t willing to put in the extra work to talk to someone so obviously prepped to leave.

you get there at 11:15—no earlier—because you’ve got a 15 minute routine when it comes to shit like this. show your face, hide, and leave before the drinking games get rowdy enough to warrant having the police bust their knuckles open on the front door.

granted, you really did try to stick this one out. your closest friend—who, apparently, was much closer to the organizer of this thing than she was to you—had dragged you along with her after as a show of goodwill. something about getting you out of the apartment long enough for people to know that you have tits.

which, in hindsight, should have been a warning. the split of a train whistle just before it veers off the tracks.

the living room, painted with bits of a fiery orange from some dodgy led lights, has begun to sting your eyes. you’re plastered to the corner in a top that isn’t yours, trying (and failing) to breathe air that’s too hot, too sticky, drenched in a mix of sweat and some idiot’s cheap cologne. the cup you hold only catches glimpses of the music, pulsating in time with the wall. it’s basically empty, but you hold it like it’s heavy. most of the people around you are already too inebriated to know the difference.

the crash comes when someone taps two fingers on your elbow.

“headphones at a party?”

your reaction is slow. when you turn, your first thought is that you’ve seen his face on a pack of men’s underwear somewhere. he must be thinking something similar, because he leans up against the wall like he’s in it for the long haul before sizing you up.

“i’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t i? ‘round campus?”

you shrug to ward off the urge to shrink. “maybe,” you reply. “i don’t think my face is that memorable, but i appreciate the attempt at a pickup line.”

he smiles, then, like he does know you. brown eyes glowing like hot coals.

“not quite what i meant,” he says, “but i think you look plenty memorable.”

a squirmy feeling in your throat you thought you’d flattened a lifetime ago resurfaces. fuck—fuck. of course that isn’t what he meant. embarrassment is what begins to peel your sweaty back off the wall. you’ll have to apologize to your friend later, but the empty hallway is calling your name.

just as you’re about to excuse yourself, he slides a warm hand up to your shoulder, just a little too close to where it meets your neck. you shoot him a look, and he beams.

“loud in here, isn’t it?” he taps his ears. leans a little closer, even though the music isn’t that loud, and lowers his voice as if confessing some dirty secret. “truth is, i hate showing up to these things.”

your brows furrow. “…you do?”

he scoots a little closer, crowding you into the corner. “too many people i have to play nice with. the only reason i’m here is to make sure my roommates stay out of trouble.”

“oh. you—you live here?”

“unfortunately. but,” he divulges, “that also means i know the best hiding spots.” a decision is made—one final spark that sets the train ablaze. he slides an arm over your shoulders, thumb tracing absentmindedly over the strap of your top as his weight settles over you. “looking for some peace and quiet, right?”

you can’t tell if he’s being nice, or if he’s just a little weird. weird, only because he seems a little too perfect.

you have a tendency to resonate with weirdos. mostly to your detriment.

but—you’re not quite sure how you’d categorize this.

he’s got you sitting on his bed, back pressed to his chest with a hand shoved down the front of your underwear—no outside clothes on the bed, love—before you know what’s happening.

you gasp when the elbow he’s got hooked around your neck tips your chin up.

“kyle—”

“shh, shh. what’d i tell you, sweetheart?”

“f-focus, i—hck—know, but—”

he slaps a wet hand over your cunt, and your vision goes spotty. you’re not sure how long he’s been knuckle deep inside of you. between the grunting in the shell of your ear and the sound of your own arousal filling the small room, you’ve lost track of time.

kyle presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before sliding two fingers back in.

“not so bad, is it?” he coos, allowing himself another kiss to your temple. “just needed a firm hand to keep you company, that’s all.”

he grinds the heel of his palm up against your clit, interrupting the lazy pace he’s set when you writhe against him. it doesn’t deter him like you thought it would, evident by the way his hand seems to pull your pelvis closer to where his cock has hardened in his boxers.

your hips jump when he curls his fingers over that spongy spot inside of you. mind fuzzy, ears ringing, you watch with him. entranced by the languid push and pull of his hand, the sight now blurry from the tears clumping your eyelashes together.

“no reason a pretty girl like you should be out here by herself,” he mutters. half to himself, maybe to you. he slides his sticky hand out, pulls the mess up to your bellybutton before plunging his fingers into your folds again. “fuck—and you feel divine—”

your walls tremble around him when the arm around your neck tightens ever so slightly.

“kyle, i—”

you what?

go on, tell him. he’s listening. there’s nobody here, except for the two of you.

“please let me cum, please please p-please—”

but kyle is in his own world, moves on his own time, with his own rules, and you’re under his jurisdiction.

you should know this by now.

he yanks his fingers out just as that cord in your belly has become nothing more than a thread before stuffing his digits into your open mouth.

he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. suck. but, as your tongue lolls out to swipe around his fingers, you catch his eye from over your shoulder.

you’re not too sure you know what you’re looking at.

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness bonus 4

Find the series masterlist

FINALLY putting out the last bonus chapter for this series! This can be canon or can be discarded as you like, as it doesn't effect the main storyline at all.

Warnings: Pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, probably rose-colored tbh, established relationship, established pack, shifter behavior, swearing, Logan has to learn a whole new interrogation method.

Word count: 1.8k

Soap and Gaz both murmured sleepily when you tried to nudge them off, nestling closer in retaliation. You looked to John for help, but he just shrugged. 

“Fucking burrs, I warned you,” he murmured, leaning over where you were trapped on the LoveSac to kiss your forehead. He nosed gently at your temple, breathing in the scent of you. “They’ll need to get up soon anyway.”

You sighed but gave in, a little reluctantly. “Five minutes, then I’m kicking them off.”

“Good luck.” John smirked at you, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before he left to go do his own preparations. Which is really what you should be pushing these two to do, but they clearly didn’t want to.

John hadn’t been sure how long they’d be gone this time. More than a week, he’d said with an apologetic little grimace, but he didn’t know more than that. 

Which was fine. You’d fly out to Logan, take care of some stuff there, maybe pick up a few etiquette classes or do some community work. It wasn’t like you were some wilting wife staring mournfully out to sea waiting on her husband. 

You snorted softly at the mental image. Yeah, no thanks. Not for you. 

You left shortly after they did, humming to yourself as you went through security and then waited for the plane. The trip was long, but worth it. 

And this time, you were giving Logan a taste of his own medicine and showing up unannounced. So you got a cab out to his property. 

Which was, of course, cold. Because the weirdo liked Canada. 

You fished out your house key and opened the door. “Logan?” 

There was a thump and a swear from further in the house. You grinned and headed that way. 

“You know, when I said your stuff wouldn’t be any trouble, I might have misjudged.” Logan glowered at you from where he stood in the middle of a storage room, which was currently stuffed with your stuff from your apartment. 

“I did tell you I didn’t need the furniture,” you pointed out, leaning in the doorframe. 

“The bookcases are nice, don’t wanna get rid of those.” Logan narrowed his eyes at you, head tipping as he approached. You paused, watching him, because this was not normal. He sniffed you, leaning in closer, until he made a face and took a step back. “Really, kid?”

“What?” You resisted the urge to sniff your own arm, because you knew it wouldn’t work. 

He blinked. Twice. “Oh fuck.” He rubbed one hand down his face, gaze flitting around the room, before he deflated a little and sighed. “Okay. Kitchen. Go.” 

Confused, you went, because this? You needed to know what this was about. 

Logan made coffee (he didn’t do tea) and growled at you every time you so much as tried to get up from your chair. So you just sat, utterly perplexed, and watched. 

Finally, he set a coffee in front of you, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “You’re pregnant, kid.” 

You blinked, suddenly quite aware of why he’d had you sit down. You grabbed the table to make sure you weren’t swaying. “I’m… what?” 

“I can tell.” He tapped his nose meaningfully. “I’ll drive into town and get some things for you.” 

“I’ll go, might as well,” you said, more out of habit than actual desire. 

And three tests later (you still had another pack to take in a few days), you were once again sitting at the kitchen table, more or less in shock. 

“I take it this wasn’t planned.” Logan nudged your foot with his, frowning a little. 

“Nope. Hadn’t even talked about it.” You breathed in slowly, trying not to freak out. 

“It’ll be fine.” Logan reached over to take one of your hands. “And if it’s not you’ll come here.”

You huffed. “You have a way of making things seem much more simple than they actually are,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t help but smile. 

“All depends how you look at it.” Logan shrugged. “You’ll be fine, one way or the other. You’ve got time and space here to think about what you wanna do. If you wanna keep the cub or not.” 

You put your head down on the table and whimpered. 

True to his word, though, Logan gave you all the time and space you wanted, letting you figure shit out. He offered opinions (sometimes wanted, sometimes not). And when you got too caught up in your own head, he bullied you onto the couch, turned on a movie, and shifted and laid across your lap. 

It was oddly effective. 

You had an entire month to sort yourself out. 

And then John texted, saying they were on their way back to base. 

Logan didn’t quite sit on you but he threatened to, glowering at you until you cooperated and then booking tickets for the two of you back to England. 

(“You can’t travel alone.”

“I’m pregnant, not dying!”

“Don’t care, you’re not traveling alone.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”) 

Logan stayed with you the entire time, calm as always. His calm seemed to directly increase in relation to your anxiety. Which was… something to think about later. 

For now you were just grateful he wasn’t biting your head off. 

John had volunteered to pick you up, so of course he was waiting for you, car idling, leaning back against the hood as he patiently scanned the crowds for you. 

You didn’t actually track the steps you took to get to John. You were in front of Logan one minute, and in John’s arms the next. He rumbled a soft laugh as he squeezed you gently. 

“Missed me, hm?” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m pregnant.” You didn’t think. Just blurted the words out. 

“...come again?” 

You pulled back, looking up at him. “I’m pregnant.” 

John was very, very still for the longest half-dozen heartbeats of your life. He blinked. His mouth opened. Then closed. You swallowed hard, sudden nerves clenching around your heart. 

And then he was hugging you even tighter, face hidden against the top of your head, murmuring too quietly for you to understand. 

When he pulled back, his eyes were damp, and he was grinning wider than you’d ever seen. “That must be why…” He trailed off, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing deep again. 

“Alright, you two,” Logan said loudly, blatantly interrupting you. “Figure it out later.” 

You huffed and shot him a nasty look before giving John a quick kiss. “We should head back,” you agreed, a little reluctantly. 

Of course then John took your luggage and fussed over your seatbelt and wouldn’t stop glancing at you the entire drive back. Logan, the absolute bastard, was laughing to himself in the back seat. 

“You go say hi to the boys,” you told Logan sternly once John had parked. “You and I need to actually discuss this, I guess.” You looked at John. 

“Alright.” He didn’t even sound freaked out, much more under control again. 

But he didn’t take you back to his office. He took you to his room. 

There was very little talking involved in the next couple hours. 

You did insist on a shower before going to see the rest of the pack. 

You did not tell the rest of the pack about the baby just yet. You wanted to do something a little more nice for them than just blurting it out. (You’d feel bad about telling John that way but he was too smug already.) 

So you enlisted Logan’s help, getting him to go take your entire pack on a run. You took the time to decorate the pack room with some balloons you’d run off base for, a cake, and a little banner you hung off the table. You had enough time to question all your life choices before they came back. 

Logan looked in first, grinned, and moved to a prime spot to get pictures. John was next, huffing softly but his gaze soft as he looked at you.

The other three started to come in, and stopped. Well, to be more accurate, Gaz stopped short, Ghost stopped just shy of hitting him, and Soap walked right into Ghost’s back and swore before peeking between the two. 

Silence. Complete silence. It lasted just long enough for you to wonder if you’d made a mistake, if they weren’t okay with this, if this was a bad thing after all–

Gaz whooped and grabbed you, picking you up off your feet in a spinning hug. You squeaked, more surprised than anything. 

He didn’t even set you down. Just handed you straight to Soap, who also spun you around while holding you tight. Then he deposited you in front of Ghost. 

Ghost blinked down at you before slowly, carefully initiating a hug. You melted. He never initiated.

“So, I take it you guys are fine with this?” you asked, only a little choked up, still leaning into Ghost. 

“To put it mildly,” Gaz agreed, grin clear in his voice. He plastered himself to your back, joining in the hug shamelessly and ignoring Ghost's little annoyed growl. And then Soap jumped in too and you were laughing as the pile of you tipped precariously. 

"Alright, you muppets," John grumbled, fond amusement clear in his voice. "That's enough." It didn't take long before he was gently tugging you away from the boys. 

It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies, and you were no saint. But the pack made it work. 

Until the day you were finally cradling a little girl against you. So far Logan was keeping the rest of the pack at bay, so you and John had half a chance to meet your baby in peace. You’d never thought you’d see John cry, but he’d surprised you. 

Now, though, you three had a little peace. Your little girl slept against your chest, John hovering over the both of you. 

“She’s perfect, love,” John murmured, tipping his head to rest his cheek against your temple. 

“She is.” You smiled, exhausted, leaning further back into the bed. “Think she’ll be a bear like you?” 

“Probably.” John huffed softly. “Too soon to tell. We’ll find out soon enough.” He touched the back of one tiny hand with one finger, impossibly gentle. 

“Ready for all the extra mischief?” You couldn’t help but smile, already thinking of all the trouble she’d get into with Gaz and Soap. 

“Be good practice for them,” John rumbled, amused. “It’ll be fine, love.”

“I know.” You yawned, struggling to keep your eyes open now. “Trust you.” 

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll keep watch.” 

You managed to open one eye to shoot him an amused look. “The pack is literally outside ready to take on anything,” you pointed out. “You don’t need to keep watch.”

“Won’t stop me from doing it anyway.” John rumbled soothingly, pressing closer to you both. 

“Ridiculous man.” But you smiled as you closed your eyes again, heart full to overflowing. The security of having the pack outside and your mate next to you made it easy to drift to sleep.

[krypticcafe]

May I request call of duty boys with an autistic s/o? As an autistic person I think they’d all be very helpful with their partner and their needs. Their partner is having a bit of a rough day and they’ve gone nonverbal and just need the comfort of a safe person so they can unmask. (I totally hc Ghost as autistic so maybe he and his partner just vibe in silence together)

COD:MW boys w/an autistic partner

rating: general

character(s): GN!Reader, John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Hound

word count: ~5.2k

warning(s): possible inaccuracies, mentions of autism symptoms, mentions of masking, lotsa comfort 'n fluff

a/n: as per usual, feel free to tell me if I've misrepresented or misinformed. I'm undiagnosed, but extremely certain that I'm ND so I've included experiences I found that I share with autism symptoms :] On the other hand, idgaf about realistic military limits on medical issues and medication, this is literally fanfiction and not that deep.

beta reader: ChordataUtopia on ao3

Price

I'd like to think with his time in the military, he's probably had acquaintances, friends, or subordinates who are on the spectrum, so at the very least, he knows what to expect and has a few mental notes on it.

So it's not a problem for him when he sees it on your file.

It's when you become a thing that he actually starts researching about it, and really in-depth, the same way he would when doing background checks.

He's a pretty fast talker, so you have trouble keeping up with all the info he throws at you sometimes. At first, he thought you weren't paying attention, but then he realized you just had issues trying to process so much at once, which is vastly different when compared to how he can take in a bunch at a time. He's learned to be more concise, and surprisingly, it's helped some of the others on the team, too.

One of the perks of dating a captain is getting to know the plans and schedules ahead of everyone and being one of the first to know about any last-minute alterations.

Whenever you're starting to feel overstimulated on base, Price has an eye out for you and calls you to his office. It's a subtle and easy way for him to take you out of a situation and pull you somewhere safe. After all, no one bothers to question the captain's orders.

Although the military doesn't really have quiet rooms, the two of you found that his office is the only place aside from your shared quarters where you can feel safe and sound. Everyone respects Price's office space, so it's always nice and tranquil there. He's used to this one-on-one time so he keeps your favorite drink in a mini-fridge, something for you to fidget with quietly, and an extra comfy chair for you, along with medication if you need any.

Turns out, the voice of a captain is also helpful for keeping you grounded. It isn't aggressive, it isn't demanding, it's firm. He helps keep you in the moment when you feel your mind drift from your body, whether in private or on a mission. He's also direct and doesn't beat around the bush, so misunderstandings are rare.

If you take medication, it used to be difficult for you to get it restocked. Healthcare system and all its perks. But now, after dating John, strangely enough, it seems you get it on time almost always and hand-delivered by him. Hm.

His favorite thing to do is to listen to your rambles while he does his paperwork. You're worried you're bothering him, but he just responds with, "Not at all, love. I wouldn't trade this moment for the world," and tells you to continue discussing whatever you are particularly interested or fascinated about.

John doesn't tell you, but he sometimes wishes he had more paperwork just to spend more time with you in the office.

Gaz

Probably has had neurodivergent friends or family, and doesn't know a lot about the matter, but he's open-minded from the start.

He's a quick learner, too. Not just in combat but with your relationship. He notices your little habits, what makes you tick, and what keeps you in the zone.

And thank whatever being above that you were blessed with such a patient man. If you're having difficulties wrapping your head around a concept or directions, he'll explain it in a way you can understand. Sometimes, people talk too fast, too quietly, or too vague. Gaz finds that there's no shame in it.

One of the things he notices is that sometimes you mimic how he talks, like certain phrases or words. Especially if you're non-UK. Some of your repeated phrases are "oh my days", "cheers", or "takin' the piss". Fluent accent and all. He doesn't find it insulting or strange, he thinks it's actually pretty cute and doesn't poke fun at you for it.

Usually, he's not a fan of when people get too chatty with him, but it's you. He can't find himself getting irritated when you're talking so passionately about your special interest, latest hyper fixation, or whatever got to you because he knows you're being your genuine self and not talking out of your ass.

Your eyes light up, you're no longer using the tone of a soldier with all its formalities, yet you articulate the more and more you converse with him. Your hands even start to fidget and flap when you get deep in discussion.

"Keep going, love. I'm listening." He smiles at you from the corner of his eye, reorganizing his locker. It's meaningful to him, being the one person you trust to listen and engage when you need a break from masking.

He's got an eye for when you're having an out-of-body experience, helping you keep your head in missions without belittling you for feeling elsewhere.

Overstimulated or overwhelmed? Don't worry, he's got you. Kyle has his headphones on him a lot of the time whenever he can. When he sees your eyes looking in the distance or darting around while you feel your skin itch and your mind's a blur, he pops them on you and turns up a playlist he's made with your favorites.

In other cases, he's either scouting a spot for you to retreat to or verbally guiding you until you can unwind.

Sometimes when he can't immediately stick to your side or assist you, he'll take his cap and put it on you with a gentle smile. It's his way of saying that he notices you and to hang on just a bit, he'll be right there as soon as he's done, love.

Ghost

Autistic Ghost truther right here!!

I like to think Ghost always suspected he wasn't neurotypical, and would eventually get diagnosed. But ever since meeting you, it's only sped up his realization. Especially when he saw the difference between whether you're masking or not. It really hit him like a barrel of trucks that day.

He came to you first about it, trying to play it off as curiosity and just wanting to be more informed, but even if you aren't well-versed with body language or small cues, you could just tell that the gears were starting to turn in his head.

While you knew numerous factors led to your blossoming relationship, you like to think the trust you two built after you helped him come to terms with his autism kickstarted it all.

You quickly realized how much of it has gone unnoticed, how eerily good he was at masking himself. He claimed he was more comfortable with the 141 and that outside of that, he was just fulfilling his role as lieutenan- oh my god, you're right.

He gets ticked off when there's a change in plans if a last-minute decision is made but he bites his tongue about it, despises it when people aren't straightforward, prefers bluntness, sits in the far and darker corners of the mess hall where it's calmer, or just avoids it altogether and eats in his room, doesn't understand when people think he's being rude or mean, the list goes on.

There is... a lot to uncover.

But it's all worth it for the little things.

Like when you two created a subtle way to tell each other "I love you" when the words won't come out, three little taps on the inside of the wrist.

Or when you both need to unwind after a particularly triggering mission and you just can't articulate yourselves. No one else notices it and passes it off as you two just being quieter than you usually are, but the two of you catch onto each other like wildfire.

You'll retreat into your quarters and sit on the bed, back-to-back in the dark, where Simon can pull off the mask to just breathe and you can just feel. A comfortable silence lingers in the air while your hearts sync until one of you breaks the silence.

"Absolute trainwreck that one was, huh?" One of you dryly chuckles.

And the other mutters back, "You can say that again."

There's this one particular memory he has of when you surprised him with a gift one day. He wasn't much of a taker than a giver, but seeing how giddy you were, he couldn't decline.

Opening it, he was surprised with a custom butterfly knife, an obsidian-black handle with silver engravings of skulls, thorns, and roses, along with his initials on the blade. You remembered his interest in knives and how he tended to mess with them as a stim, so you bought him a knife he could flip around smoothly and quietly while still keeping up appearances.

With the way he looked at it, someone would've assumed you just proposed to him with a diamond ring or something.

You expected him to put it in his collection, but he uses it a lot in his spare time.

He keeps it in top condition and never leaves it unless he has to.

Soap

He's heard of it, met people with it, though he doesn't quite understand it yet. Johnny's tried to look into it but finds most sources sound contradicting to each other or just don't make sense compared to the experiences you describe and the ones that others have.

You tell him it's fine, you appreciate the effort, and it's okay if he occasionally asks questions when appropriate.

If there's one thing about him, it's that he's quick and creative when it comes to accommodating you. He carries extra earplugs with him on missions and comes up with signals for you to use when you have trouble expressing, so it's easier for him to figure out what you need (turns out he's a visual learner, too).

He makes it ridiculously easy to unmask, too, always so happy to see you, to listen, to talk—he just loves you so much. Something about his energy and how he can slowly and gently open you up like a treasured, well-kept, and well-loved book with just that sweet tone of his.

Sometimes when you're stuck in your head, he pretends he's performing surgery to remove your brain or something, making little silly little noises and tracing your forehead like he's cutting it, a little pop! and he's all "Now you cannae think 'bout anythin'", and it's so stupid but works.

You find the best thing he can do is just hold you. He's got this firm hold that makes you feel like you're wrapped in a warm blanket and a strong heartbeat that reverberates through you. You'd tend to count the beats in your head and just allow yourself to be absorbed in his embrace.

It's all just a few of the numerous things he's done to improve your relationship.

But you have to be real with him for a moment.

You guys know that one tiktok audio? The one that's like:

"I ain't sure what HD is but the doctor said I got 80 of them bitches! WOOO—"

Yeah, Johnny, don't think we haven't noticed.

One day, he lightheartedly jokes that he relates to some of what you go through and that maybe he's autistic, too.

"Well... you're not too far off."

"Haha, what?"

So turns out the MacTavish family has a whole history of ADHD and ADD. His family's always had an inkling, but Soap's natural personality just really blurred the lines.

To be honest, it was so obvious. The way the two of you would parrot each other and your teammates, how he banged his fists on tables whenever he got really excited or antsy, couldn't stand still when he'd constantly be shifting his weight between his feet, popped his lips to break silence, all the impulses that get him in trouble a lot of the time, random bouts of eery calmness, his hyperfocus when working on a new project, the time you caught him unconsciously imitating the sound of the heart monitor after he nearly blew himself up in an accident, you get the idea.

Soap's love language, from physical affection and words of affirmation, is gift-giving! The moment he sees something that reminds him of you, what you like, or something you've been talking about a lot lately, he gets so excited to see your reaction when he surprises you with it and is practically bouncing with anticipation.

Definitely made you cute little cue cards with silly doodles, and even some with Scottish slang. He was especially proud of these.

Roach

He gets you. He really, really, really gets you.

Roach, are you perhaps neurodivergent?

You wouldn't be surprised. You figured he was ever since he explained how he wasn't Deaf or completely mute. He just said he felt nonverbal a lot of the time, selectively mute. That was something that really clicked with you.

In fact, you found he was the easiest to talk to about it. He didn't have many questions other than asking what made you uncomfortable and if you wanted him to teach you some ASL.

You said yes, of course.

Before you were a couple, you were best friends. Practically inseparable with energies complimenting each other. No one was surprised when you guys became public, much to your own surprise.

Learning ASL has been one of the most helpful things Roach has done for your guys' relationship; you don't feel as isolated in your nonverbal state. It also helps clear up misunderstandings with the rest of the team sometimes when one of you can communicate on the other's part. You still struggle with some expressions periodically, but you're pretty fluent!

There is so much open communication in your relationship, it's just a fresh breath of air, holy shit. But the negative part to that is when there is a misunderstanding, it can get a little messy, not horrible, but just kind of overwhelming for the both of you where you need to take a breather and just tune out in your heads for a bit before you can approach each other again.

Overstimulation comes more easily to you than it does to Roach, so you often find yourself either going to him or him leading you somewhere more private where you can quietly wind down.

On a more positive note, you guys have the most energetic of conversations. You'll both be spewing out hyperfixes, random thoughts, and interests, some of Roach's being random facts about zoology or history facts (his favorite are the world wars, unsurprisingly).

"The Egyptians believed that the most significant thing you could do with your life was die."

"Sick."

You two jump from subject to subject, then return to one only to forget what you were supposed to talk about, then move on to something else before remembering what was supposed to be said, and then dropping the conversation altogether like nothing happened.

The entirety of Task Force 141 and SpecGru has given up on trying to interrupt these moments for any reason besides work, it's been proven fruitless. You guys are simply too far in the deep end, there is no saving from hyperfix hell.

Gary's also like a crow, he memorized your interests and whenever he sees something related to that, like a trinket when he's out and about, he'll buy it for you. You two do this to the point where it's kinda getting cluttered in your quarters...

Alejandro

Yeah, I'm afraid he's a little undereducated about it, growing up in an environment with a stigma over mental health issues type of deal.

Don't worry, he's not bigoted by any means, just confused about what it's exactly about because of how much misinformation is out there. I think there was a time when he might've believed in some stereotypes and acted rudely about it, except that was when he was really young and dumb.

When he told you this, it broke your heart, but for a different reason. You told him it wasn't his fault, he was raised in an environment that provided little awareness on the issue, that's just how many people are raised. As much as you hate to admit it, that's just how the majority of the world is. What matters is that he acknowledged he was wrong, and that he was just a kid.

"You're too kind, mi sol," He murmurs, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

"And you're too hard on yourself, love." You respond, cradling the side of his face with a smile.

Unintentionally or not, meeting you led him to realize he might have his own difficulties with his mental health. After all, being colonel would take a toll on anyone, and after the events involving the Shadows? He needs a break above anyone else in the Vaqueros.

Much like Price, he's learned to create as much of a supportive environment for you and the rest of his soldiers with a general no-tolerance policy on ableist bullshit.

Sometimes, it can be a little challenging for him to reach out to you or vice versa, largely because of his busy schedule and job as commander. He can't indulge you as much as he wishes. Patience was something the two of you had to learn and overcome in your relationship.

But if you really need him, or if you're having a difficult time while he's preoccupied, you give him a few taps on the shoulder, and he gives you a nod mid-conversation with a subordinate. At the end of the day, he comes and finds you, and asks you a few questions you can answer with a simple nod or shake of your head. You trace a heart into his palm, a straightforward reminder, and he smiles and kisses your forehead.

It takes a while, but he carefully unravels you with gentle comfort, just holding you, and taking your time. He's not the most patient man, but for you, he certainly tries. When you finally start returning to yourself, no longer the soldier or the "different one". Just you. He greets you with a kiss and listens to whatever you say for the rest of the night.

It's worth the wait, so long as you're in his arms.

Rodolfo

Rudy has a similar situation to Alejandro. The only difference is that it never quite sat right with him as a kid. Ultimately, it led him to educate himself and seek out actual resources.

He could never understand the stigma, too naive as a child only to find out the truth when he was older. Somehow, it hurt him too, maybe because of how he shared some qualities.

He figured he wasn't autistic, but he knew he wasn't neurotypical either, tiny impulses here and there constantly proving him right, ways that he didn't connect with other people. Meeting you had only confirmed it for himself.

At first, he never noticed it, you were usually masking in front of them all anyway. But when he started to spend more time with you in between missions and get to know the real you, he started to see how vastly different you were when he first met you.

The comment slips out and he apologizes, but you laugh it off as his friend and closest confidant. It's hard to really put it into words, but he understands, he always does. You learn that early on in your relationship.

Instead of words, he uses gestures to console you. Acts of service is his kind of love language. Helping you with your work, doing all the chores you couldn't bring yourself to do that day, the simple things. Mugs of warm drinks, a little mazapán or gansito, a treat to quell your mind a little. A small nostalgic snack break always helps him in hard times between all the work, so he hopes you enjoy them, too. Expect him to join you whenever he's feeling a little out of it.

You worry that it feels like an excuse to hog him to yourself when it isn't. He's always willing—even if it was a ploy, he wouldn't mind it all that much. Seeing you ease up makes him come out of his shell, too. It's something good for both of you.

"Need a refill, cariño?"

You shake your head, "No, just... stay? Please?"

"Of course." He beams in a way that has your heart nearly skipping a beat despite how long you've been together. Maybe you should marry him on the spot.

There are moments when he holds you that you hear him humming his favorite songs. You tell him he has a wonderful voice, but he bashfully denies it. However, it doesn't stop him from humming, not when it helps bring you back down to earth or get a compliment out of you after some silence.

König

Doesn't exactly know what it is, thought it was like a bad trait or something because someone called him autistic once as a kid, but in a derogatory way. Made you go 'yikes' and explain the whole thing. He apologized for his initial shock when you told him you were autistic and felt disgusted when he realized why he was called that back then.

He's quick to pick up on your cues, mood differences, or how you process things. After all, he gave himself a trained eye from all that sniper training.

The first time you were nonverbal around him, he was slightly worried. It was after an arduous mission that had you completely knackered, mentally and physically. He thought you were in a state of shock or something, and he was about to call a medic before you dragged him away and had to physically force him not to. Later, you had to explain to him what happened again, but he was still a little concerned for your wellbeing.

You're well aware and so is he that he probably has ADHD and social anxiety, but to be honest, you wouldn't actually doubt the idea that he could be autistic either.

You both noticed it when you were ranting about how annoying some of your habits were, whether it be an inability to properly express emotions, an inability to understand social cues, the need to mask around others, or how much certain sensations bothered you when they shouldn't because it's so stupid that they do. He'd often respond with, "Oh, I do that too!" or "Yeah, I have that sometimes." At first, you thought he related to some of the lighter symptoms shared with people in general, but then it came to a point where he related a bit too much that you had to let yourself think about whether your boyfriend just happened to have the double whammy of ADHD and autism.

Chances were likely.

One thing that surprised König when you two discussed how he could help comfort you is lying on top of you.

"But Schatz, I'm too big, I would crush you, like a weight or something."

"Oh sweetheart... that's the point."

Genuinely, he's a wonderful makeshift weighted blanket with the great addition of being your boyfriend. It's the perfect distraction for your mind to focus on something and someone else—the weight of his body weight distributed on yours, your breathing synced with his, his heartbeat against your chest, and just having someone to hold.

Loves it when you start parroting and picking up some of his phrases, especially the German ones. He'll ignore the pronunciations if they're bad, but he's just gleaming with pride when he sees you taking out an enemy and spitting German curses at them the same way he does. Practically makes goo-goo eyes on the battlefield.

Horangi

Same thing about being brought up in an environment that isn't the most informed nor supportive about neurodivergence. He's not the proudest of his younger self, and he knows he's made some mean remarks about it as a dumb kid, but he's long since moved on. Getting out into the world has taught him to grow more tolerant and understanding, but he's still ashamed of the ignorant stuff he did.

He worries that you'll hate him for it, despite it being ages ago. He's used to being reminded of his mistakes and failures, such as his gambling addiction and delinquency.

What he struggles with most is trying to find a way to comfort you or help you unwind. He's not great with words since he's worried about screwing something up, so the most he can do is pull you somewhere the two of you can be alone and give you space.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't try. He tries several things, like keeping your favorite snacks on hand, doodling on your skin with his markers to distract you, getting some music playing, earplugs on hand, and stuff that he knows he can't royally fuck up.

You propose that he creates some cute cue cards for you so that it helps him figure out your needs, and you don't miss how he tries to hide his eagerness. He presents you with the cards all connected on a metal ring, red, blue, and black doodles with words in both English and Korean, acting like he just did it on a whim when the amount of care and love put into it is obvious.

One of the cards only has a single phrase on it in Korean, and you already knew it. You still asked.

"Hong-jin, what does this say?"

"Ah- uh... 사랑해요 (saranghaeyo)."

"Mind telling me?"

"... good job?"

"Uh-huh... so why are there so many hearts?"

"Because you think I did a really good job..?"

Again, he's not great with words. That includes letting you know that he wants to be told "I love you" more.

Lightheartedly calls you a nerd once when you ramble about your hyperfixations or special interest, only for you to fire back with a comment about his K-pop collection of albums, signatures, fancams, photocards, lightsticks...

"That's not the sam- no... dammit, no."

Face the music, Horangi. Your special interest is K-pop and each new album is just another hyperfix. You're just as much of a nerd.

Hound

Autism? Okay, but the fuck does that have to do with you blasting the enemy with an RPG right now?

Honestly, he thought you just had some strange quirks and issues. Maybe you were like him. He figured he was just "broken" in some way, that they were "weaknesses" of his. The more he spent time with you, the more he questioned why he is the way he is.

Yet he doesn't judge you because he most likely knows how it feels to be in that position, and he wants to be the support he doesn't have but wishes he had.

Actually, that's the real glue of your relationship—how easily Hound adapts to your structures and needs without question. If it conflicts with theirs, they won't hesitate to directly address it and work it out with you. You return the same energy and reassure him he's not alone in feeling this way. Hell, you make him feel normal for once.

Both of you have issues verbalizing, so you'll be tracing hearts, question marks, checks, and x's on each others' palms. They even teach you Morse code to tap little phrases. You never need to worry about miscommunication if you're direct with them. They're always direct with you, and they hate when people aren't specific.

Hound's not much of a talker, but they're definitely a listener, and they could honestly listen to you talk for days. If someone dares to interrupt you or criticize you for talking too much because he "seems like he's not interested" and you're "taking up his time", he shoots them a glare to fuck off.

Most likely, your interests will become his interests, too.

You notice they mask almost constantly but act much more natural, tender, and less structured when they're around you, showing a side of themselves with a variety of emotions no one else would ever see either. More human, and less war dog.

You both like to be alone, but alone together. Hound used to ask you to leave him alone whenever he needed to self-isolate but started to let you stick around when they needed a moment. The two of you are much more physically affectionate and even more talkative, and you both value the trust you grant each other to show the more vulnerable side of yourselves. You guys are woven like thread; the moment one unravels, so does the other.

Sometimes, all it takes is a weak smile from you or his hands interlocking with yours to find the calm in the storm.

a/n 2: I'm back, teehee :3

[hornydilfsinyourarea]

Hello!!! I really gotta say that I love your bots :D

And i wanted request a M4M Gaz bot maybe in a scenario where we're his neighbor. He can be bearly home given how many missions he has to deal with but whenever he's home he's eager to talk with his neighbor (that he definitely doesn't have a crush on)

oohhh and maybe the neighbor is a father

you can totally skip or delete this btw just wanted to say how I appreciate your work 🙏

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x DILF! Neighbor! User

Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to make this, I kinda lost it in my saves somewhere. I literally just finished it today, so I'm also posting it (don't worry, I tested it before hand). Also, hope you don't mind that I made it NSFW, just wanted to save you guys the trouble of trying to sleep with him, I also slightly changed it, hope you also don't mind that.

Scenario: "After moving from base to base, Gaz's captain finally decided to settle the base down somewhere quiet, and Gaz finally also got to settle down, getting a house by the nearest neighborhood to the base- though, some would find it useless buying a house seeing that Gaz is in the military and almost always on duty, he just wanted somewhere to cool down and get away from, and the neighborhood he choose was quite quiet, and the houses there looked nice too, so that was a bonus. So, when Gaz's boss let Gaz have a 2-month vacation, he took it, his body was already sore from all the training and missions he goes on and what not. As Gaz settled in his knew house, it was around 10am now- and then he heard something, giggling coming from outside, it sounded like a girl, a small one at that, so he opened his curtain a bit- seeing how a same girl rides her plastic bike between his and his neighbor's front yard while giggling, it brought a smile to Gaz's face, but when he looked further on, he finally saw the father of said child, you, Gaz could feel his breath hitch a bit upon seeing you standing there, a smile on your face as you watched your daughter, it made Gaz feel something he hadn't felt before, it was two feelings, two unfamiliar feelings

Warning: NSFW! non-established relationship (only mentioned that user and Gaz got close enough to have sex with each other), user is a single father to a girl toddler, Gaz developed baby fever after seeing user's daughter (and I mean major baby fever), Gaz has feelings about wanting to be a father one day and being user's daughter's second father, user is mentioned to being nice to hang with, and making corny dad jokes, user's job is not mentioned, or if user's daughter is user's biological daughter (written to be like that, but never mentioned or implied), not mentioned if user has an ex-lover or anything, only mentioned that user is a single father (user's backstory is completely up to you)

Sleeping with his hot DILF neighbor ^link to bot^

[starzshopoflove]

Double Trouble (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

request fill for @bringinsexybackk69  <3 hope you enjoy this little drabble!! Notes: fem reader! sfw, chaotic couple, fluff, civilian reader

Soap: getting a girl

Okay, not unbelievable; he's quite the pretty boy. He’ll usually squawk about some bird for a few weeks, then shut up once he’s done with her. Sometimes he’ll bring them around base for a round at the pub or to a government charity event the squad was forced to attend.

Recently, he has been less rowdy and more active. And by active, I mean rushing home as soon as he’s done with work on base. He’s been saying some nonsense about his family being in town.

He’s been more diligent with his paperwork, gathering up the lot and running himself down to the archivist to drop them off before getting home. Not even stopping with the force to grab a pint at the pub or have dinner.

Of course, he does eventually crack and tell Ghost. The poor boy can't keep his mouth shut for anything. Giggling as he unlocks his phone to scroll through and show ghost pictures of you together, his personal favorite being a screenshot of you holding a burnt pan of something thats supposed to resemble food thats been charred to nothingness with the biggest smile on your face, of course paired with a little text.

‘My man is eatin' good tonight. Bon appetit, baby.😍’

Ghost gave him a weak thumbs up. You were gorgeous; don't get him wrong, but for a civilian to be as strange or erratic as Soap meant some screws were definitely lost, perhaps multiple. Soap finally let himself yap a bit more about you to the squad, explaining that he actually wanted to take you seriously and didn't want to jinx it by bragging about you before he could really be sure.

Soap started bringing you around the base after a few weeks, ready for you to meet his friends—well, more like brothers—and Price as his proxy dad. You concerned Ghost more than annoyed him, and you clicked with Gaz almost as easily as you did Soap. Price didn't get to meet you on the same night Gaz and Ghost did since he was held up in a meeting.

Your first encounter with him wasn't exactly charming.

Price was honestly just trying to get on with his day; he was already pissed off dealing with rookies misbehaving. All he wanted to do was drop off these papers and nurse a nice, good scotch before bed.

He stood in front of Soap’s office door, knocking on it, waiting for some reply. Hearing nothing, he tried again. Still nothing.

'Whatever, he's probably pissing or something, I’ll just drop these and leave’

Sighing heavily, he leans his head against the door, bringing a tired hand to the door knob and briefly shutting his eyes, imagining the drink that will soon be his. Hey, he's actually kind of happy right now. Maybe he’ll wait for Soap and take the boys out for a round; maybe that'll make his day.

A small smile cracks on his face fondly as he twists the doorknob, cracking it open. That same smile drops just as quickly.

Oh, what the fuck?

He’s greeted by the sight of Johnny's desk on fire—no explanation, just the table on fire. No, not the papers on the table on fire, but the actual table on fire. Also, he’s screaming, and so is the lady with him. Wait, who the fuck is she?

“PAT IT OUT, WOULD YOU?"

Johnny's shouting—actually screaming—how did he not hear this behind the door when he was coming in? Price just stands there, eyebrows wrinkled as he squints his eyes, barely able to process what he's seeing at 11 p.m. with his brain feeling like mush.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?"

Oh great, now she's screaming. His eyes wander over to you in your screaming match, trying to figure out the fire extinguisher. Johnny's trying to fan out the flame while you're struggling to pull the pin.

"CLEARLY NOT PUTTIN TH’ FUCKIN FIRE OOT"

“YOU CAN SEE ME TRYING JOHNNY."

"PRICE IS GONNAE FUCKIN MURDER ME."

“YOU MEAN THAT, GUY? HI, Mr. Price."

Johnny whips his head to the open door, where Price stands still verily confused as the lady works a miracle, extinguishing the fire while also covering Johnny in the same foam. Panting, you drop the extinguisher on the floor, slapping your hands on your knees. You turn to look at Price, shooting him the same grin Johnny has had before.

“Lovely to meet you, boss!!” You seem to chirp out happily.

"Pleasures are all mine” is all Price can manage at this point.

It seems like thing one has finally found thing two.

[mylarena]

god. ik usually its ghost who doesnt believe hes lovable but fuck does the thought of soap not thinking hes lovable get me.

like. he believes hes too much to love. he believes he isnt worthy of someones love. he hasnt worked hard enough or done enough to warrant it.

because all his life he's needed to complete a goal to be told hes done good, or needed to reach a milestone to be told that someones proud of him, or that he needs to make someone happy before they love him. and if he disappoints that person, its back to square one. hes only loved when hes good. and no matter how fucking hard he tried as a kid, he was rarely ever good enough.

when he hit his teens, he stopped trying as hard. mainly with the people he didnt care about. teachers, store owners, police- authority in general.

with people he liked, he behaved. he never disrespected the kind old lady who lived down the street from him. she always gave him a candy when she saw him walking home from school, accompanying it with a joking finger in front of her lips and a quiet 'shh!' as though she would get in trouble for offering the candy, instead of him for taking it. he was always nice to his friends and most of his peers, and they never took his sarcastic jabs as serious and they even threw their own back at him (though sometimes he worried that they were being serious about them.)

he could never fully shake the desire to try and make his parents proud, no matter how hard he tried to hate them. they were his parents, he had to love them, right? that was how it worked. everyone loved their parents, unless they were shitty. and his parents werent shitty! they were just raising him how he should be raised. they never hurt him or yelled at him, just gave him disappointed looks and asked why he didnt get an A+ instead of the A he had gotten.

even if he didnt like his teachers, he always tried his best to do good work. he studied and got good grades and never openly disrespected them. he always insulted them in ways that could be insults, ways that could be taken as them misinterpreting his actions or words. he was always nice to the cafeteria workers and the principal and the staff at the front desk, everyone who mattered, at least in terms of avoiding punishment. if the teachers complained, he could plead his case of not meaning it the way they took it, and the principal thought he was a delight, so they tended to take his side because seemed like he could do no wrong.

(he didnt think that the cafeteria workers could really get him in trouble- he just didnt think they deserved another rude kid picking on them when some of his schoolmates already did that. they didnt do anything wrong. and they usually gave him an extra bit of his favorites for being kind. they were nice.)

his disrespect carried him through the military. he barely managed to scrape by after he punched that one dickhead, but he lucked out.

then he met price, then he joined the taskforce, and then he had people he liked. people he wanted to make proud. so he was good. he treated price with respect, he joked around with gaz, flirted with ghost.

he wasnt sure that last one counted as good, but the man didnt seem to mind it and sometimes he got ghost to flirt back at him, which felt almost just as good as someone being proud of him, so he (selfishly) kept doing it.

he was ok with the light words of affirmation and the pats on the back from his teammates and the occasional hair ruffle he got from price. god, was he okay with the few "nice work, sergeant"s and the "good job, johnny"s from ghost.

but he could tell, he knew, he wasnt doing enough to be fucking loved. he kept trying. did the best he could on his missions, (every injury sustained by his fellow soldiers felt like a bullet in his own heart, another failure to the tally,) he trained the rookies how he was told, (he made sure to tell them they were doing good work after a hard day, even if ghost gave him a strange look he couldnt decipher every time he did,) he filed his paperwork, (even when he was frustrated to tears at how he couldnt fucking focus on the words and he couldnt figure out what they wanted from him-) he did everything right-

and it fucking got to him. hes gone years without it, hes been fine. but now he fucking cares about his teammates and he wants and he knows that he wants too fucking much but he cant stop.

he doesnt even bother with wrapping his hands before he hits the punching bag. he doesnt stop when his hands hurt. he doesnt pay attention when his fingers bleed. he doesnt hear the person speaking behind him, but he does notice when a hand grabs his wrists and turns him to face them.

ghost stares at him with eyes just as wide as his own.

[dnaofhersoul]

i love hate you more. (enemies to lovers)

requested by @sgtgarricks

ty for the request love <3 hope you enjoy :)

warning: enemies to lovers (obviously), some mean words are exchanged, crying, arguments, drinking, fighting for attention/rivalry, fluff in the end, subtle flirting

you and gaz never really got along. you were just fine with everyone else. except for him. and nothing ever happened between you too, it just.. never works out.

you only realized you didn’t particularly like him was a few months ago. you were hanging out in prices office. just you, him, price, and soap. you were all just talking about an operation you’d gone on just a week ago. you and gaz never really talked much before this. all was going well, it was sort of an uncivilized debrief. until gaz spoke up. “yeah, the mission went well i guess. y/n uh.. you could’ve done better.” he said it very rudely, it came off badly.

“well, you know. we all make mistakes.” you shrugged off, trying to steer the conversation away from that. “yeah sure. but you’re falling behind.” an awkward silence instilled. “‘scuse me?” you said. “thats not uh.. real nice y’know. i’d say i’m doing just fine.” “yeah- uh. whatever you say.” you gave him a dirty look before turning away from him.

after that moment it set you both on bad terms. and for no apparent reason, gaz just didn’t like you. and that ticked you off, so you decided to return his attitude and for months on end you two just had an undisputed rivalry. but it was never in a friendly, joking way. it felt genuine, genuine dislike. maybe even hatred.

it started to get worse a month ago. you two were on a mission, it was a squad mission but you 2 were paired together. you two were supposed to rendezvous with price and ghost at a certain coordinate with a person of interest you had to kidnap. you were unsure why price even put you with gaz, i guess it was a poor and pitiful attempt to bring you too together.

you walked along the trail, enemy in hand, and you were close, on trail to the position. you could hear the faint sound of a helicopter running, and you assumed all would be well. however, the hostage began to struggle. gaz, being generally light-hearted, gave a warning. however, you and him had different views on how to handle this situation, you brought your hand forward and smacked the hostage, knocking him forward a bit.

“you behave if you know whats better for you-“ was all you managed to get out before being interrupted by gaz. “keep your hands off him, price said we need his memory good, not fucked by a concussion since you wanna hit him.” “oh, so you just wanna let him struggle? make it easier for him to slip out your hands? you don’t know what you’re talking about.” and that was all it took to set gaz off, resulting in a loud screaming match between you and him.

by the end of it, you two had gotten so heated yoy hadn’t even realized the hostage was.. gone. you both looked at each other when the realization hit, a mixture of panic, anger, and fear. you two dispatched price, letting him know you’d ‘run into trouble’ but would be there soon. you two never ended up finding him on that mission and had to return to price empty handed, which resulted in another screaming match but in front of price and ghost which ended up with them pulling you two apart as you were in each other’s faces.

on the ride home in the chopper, price somehow reprimanded you both for the entire ride home. it was deserved definitely, just wasn’t enjoyable. when you finally reached base, he called you two to his office and yelled at you too. he called you two dumb and insubordinate, and threatened a write up which he should’ve given out. however, he said because we were both young and stupid, and still loved us regardless, he’d let us off with a warning and condition.

you and gaz had to fix whatever issue we had, or we were off this task force. you weren’t even sure if he could do that but the threat alone scared you two. you stepped out of his office along with gaz. a long silence protruded between you two before you muttered a “sorry” before walking away. after that, you and gaz didn’t argue. it was just empty and awkward. missions that you were used to felt uncomfortable and you could not focus.

it was lunch now. you normally sit with some buddies of your or eat with price and ghost but today felt so bleak. you could not manage today. it just felt wrong. you took another bite of your food before stuffing your face into your hands and sighing. you were so tired, and for what? you normally were energetic and ready but today was just so abnormal.. until you heard someones voice. “you care if i sit here?” you look up, and its none other then gaz.

you stare awkwardly for a second before nodding. you weren’t sure why you accepted, you two were still on awkward terms. you ate your lunch, the silence was louder then the lunch room. gaz spoke up. “i uh.. hows your day.” he speaks quietly, almost a whisper. “its fine.” you nod. “what about you.” “same here.” you look away and turn to him. “why are you sitting here gaz?”

he sighs and rubs his eyes. “listen. i’m sorry. for what i did on that mission a month ago even though it was kinda your fault and listen. i feel bad about it. i mean- were supposed to be friends. and i don’t know why i fucked up our friendship that one day when we were drinking with price. i just was having a bad day and got tipsy and got snappy and i’m sorry about it-“ “shh.” “..what?” you pat his shoulder. “its alright. you don’t have to apologize anymore. i get it. you’re alright man.” you put your arm around his shoulder in a sort of hug.

“we can be friends.” he nods, and scoots a little closer to you. your thighs are touching. you look at him and examine all his features, closely for the first time. gentle with precision. you see that hes.. handsome. his eyes are soft, his skin is smooth. his lips are full and he looks gentle. you suddenly snap out of your trance and turn back to your food. you feel a little embarrassed but you look at gaz who seems to be reacting the same. maybe he was in a trance like you.

“uhm.. you look nice gaz.” “you too sweetheart.”

————————————————————————

a/n: sorry if this is a bit short 😭 fun to write though!! ty for my first request <3

[siddyyyyyyyy]

A Night Out

pairing: roommate!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x reader

summary: Gaz, your roommate, takes care of your drunk self after a nice hang out

wc: 2.8 k

warnings: alcohol consum, just a bit of fluff, no y/n used

a/n: This is my first time posting on here (also first short fanfic), I'm new and I'm still trying to understand how tumblr fully works, so I'm a bit nervous to post this. Also, english is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical errors, but that's all! enjoy :3

The start of the week was definitely not the best one you've had. First, you came a little late to work which already ruins the whole week for you. A costumer was being rude to you at the cafe shop you work at, saying you made his poor iced coffee wrong and went on to insult your whole family for it. As if you knew how many ice cubes he needed in his iced coffee in exact number, like every other well trained barista.

But on the bright side, your coworkers and manager are luckily nice people, who kicked him out of the store. They tried to cheer you up for the rest day of work, which somehow worked really great. Sadly, the rest of the week went on very slow for you. For some reason that rude costumer managed to make the few days of work hell for you, even though you had nice people around you.

Maybe it was because of the hormones, your upcoming period making your mood drop overall, for no reason. It happens every month and you considered taking a day or two off and just isolate yourself in your shared apartment... yeah, that's not possible. Kyle, your roommate, would definitely check up on you every ten to fifteen minutes if you suddenly decided to rot in your room for no apparent reason.

It's not like you never spoke to him about your troubles or worries, it's the opposite. You would almost always try to tell him if there's something bugging you, or would complain about something currently going on in your life. You are roommates after all and you always listen to his worries, even though he doesn't really share as much of himself to you. Much like other times, you complained about your current situation to Kyle over phone, while he was jogging back home from his morning run. You'd often do this whenever you have a chance to call him during your shift at the cafe and just ramble all the while he would try his best to listen or give you some reassuring words. Even though it often ends in just him teasing you, if it's not something really bad.

»You know what he did? He told me, my mom probably didn't even raise me right just because there were two ice cubes 'too less', can you believe that?« You complained over the phone while you stood outside at the back of the shop, having a small break since the cafe isn't busy at the time.

»What?« Kyle dryly chuckled, »And what does he mean with some ice cubes 'too less'?« He asked genuinely confused while keeping a steady pace in his jog back to the apartment.

»Yeah- he tried to say that there wasn't enough ice in his iced coffee. He insisted on calling the manager but she kicked him out.« You explain with a small smile, being somehow amused at the situation after all. »Jesus, some people complain about the most simple stuff... How do you keep up with that? Must be hell.« Kyle is always amused but mostly impressed that you can handle such costumers and always asks this question even though he already knows the answer to it.

»Cigarettes.» You answer him casually, it being the solution to most of your problems. Kyle only lets out a small chuckle to that before you both just go about your day after the short phone call.

The next few days of work weren't much better for some reason, again your mood swings are worse for some reason. The work shifs just seemed to be longer and you didn't feel like doing your hobbies anymore like before. It's only in the middle of the week, you noticed your period arrived. Your earlier theory was correct, it's just the hormones acting up. Next, were the cramps. You've always had bad cramps in your lower stomach and back but you still managed to go through that work week. Now you have two full days of free time, not knowing how to spend them.

But luckily, your great roommate Kyle came up with an awesome idea that you just couldn't resist. Going to the local bar. Relieving some stress while talking with your great friend over some shared drinks definitely sounds good after such a week like yours. So, you both went to the pub nearby, Kyle and you sharing some stories that happened over the week from work, him mostly telling you about the gossip on the military base he 'accidentally' overheard. You, telling him about the different costumers that went into the shop or how your coworkers were mostly as lazy as you.

It was the second beer you bought for yourself, much like Kyle's second glass for tonight. All the talking made you forget of how much you were actually drinking, but you thought you could handle it tonight. Kyle noticed, telling you that you both should slow down on drinking. But of course, you didn't listen. Taking shots and mixing up different sorts of alcohol made you more than just a little dizzy, having to lean against Kyle's shoulder most of the time while talking some nonsense. He knew where this was going since the moment you shook your head, stating you could 'actually handle alcohol pretty well'. His more smart decision was to keep an eye on you and not drink as much as you did. While you both sat at the bar counter, you leaned against him for most of the time, not really able to keep your own stability even while sitting. Eventually, like every other time, you started to giggle over the smallest things and smiling stupidly at Kyle for no reason. He found it rather amusing but also a bit concerning. How is he going to get you back home? You can't even sit normally on the bar stool anymore. After some several attempts of trying to get you to leave the bar, he succeeded. Now, by your side and his arm around your waist, keeping you straight while walking slowly, he is regretting his suggestion to go to the pub. But since he's a good roommate and friend, he will take care of you.

»Kyle.«

»Hm?«

»Are you mad?« You ask him with a slight frown while staring at the ground on your walk back to the apartment, being dead serious all of a sudden. He stays quiet for a moment which makes you believe he really is mad at you.

»What made you think that?« He asks back and glances at you, mostly focusing on not letting your trip over some small rocks on the pavement. You let out a small sigh and look up the sky, making you stumble only slightly.

»Hm, you- you're... quiet. Why?" You manage to ask him now, him being able to understand you since you're trying not to slur your words together.

»I just need to focus. You'll fall if I don't help you.« Kyle answers without much change to his tone, keeping you steady while walking. You stop walking and look at him, trying to focus your eyes on him more clearly.

»Am I... 'M just a burden..." I mumble out and sigh deeply before your feet decide to become more wobbly than they already were. If he didn't know already, he knows now that your mood swings get worse when drunk, this being the evidence. It takes everything in Kyle not to sigh out of frustration and instead grips your shoulders in both his hands so you're facing him directly.

»Listen, you're not a burden. You're a great roommate, now let's get back home. It's late.« He tells you softly even though he sounds tired himself and tries to take care of you now that you're drunk. You hum in acknowledgement and lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment and letting his cologne fill your lungs. He stays like that for a short while before he gently manages to get you to walking the rest few meters back to the apartment with him.

Kyle didn't complain about you needing to hold onto him the whole time, even in the apartment when you're both finally back inside. But you can't help but feel guilty over this, not being used to such nice people like him even though you both know each other for two years by now. He walks you back to your room that's opposite from his, sitting you down onto your bed. Before you could collapse onto it, Kyle makes you sit up straight for a few more moments.

»Okay, we need to take your make up off, you're wearing... mascara, right? Or that eye-liner, I don't know.« It's true, you wore eye make up today like any other day and it's not healthy to sleep with makeup. You know better than to destroy your skin over being lazy in taking your make up off.

»Anyway, can you even take it off yourself? Or do you need help?« He asks now, searching for something that removes make up in your room. You watch him, a silly smile covering your face once more at the sight of him.

»I can... do it. Wipes.« You say, your words more slurred together again. That catches his attention and he turns to look at you, processing what you just said.

Make up remover wipes. Right. He finds them shortly after at your desk and hands it to you, letting you take care of your skin. It takes you a while since everything feels funny and heavy right now under your intoxicated brain. Eventually the make up is off, looking still a bit messy but at least it's off now. He huffs out a small sigh, catching a glimpse at the time. It's past two AM. The sound of a body falling onto a mattress catches his attention again, looking at you. Laying on the bed, your torso laying on the side while your legs hang off the bed. Eyes closed, the make up remover wipe still in your hand but still in your clothes you went out in. Kyle doesn't really know what to do and decides to make sure you're comfortable. He quickly geos to his room to get one of his hoodies, taking the pj pants off your chair and places it next to you on your bed.

You wake up from a rather gentle shake on your shoulder, seeing Kyle in front of you. He tries to get you to put on the clothes so you're more comfortable, it taking you some time to process everything fully. Eventually, he left you alone to chang into the comfortable and soft clothes, falling asleep right after.

Kyle successfully managed to get you home safely, take your make up off and even change into more comfortable clothes, now both sleepimg peacefully in their seperate rooms. You don't know what time it is, or how much you slept and let alone remember how you got home, but now you're hunched over the toilet seat, throwing up the aftermath of drinking too much just a few hours ago. It's embarrassing, trying to throw up quietly so your roommate doesn't wake up, having closed the door to the bathroom. However it didn't do much, Kyle still heard it somehow. A soft knock against the door is heard before the door opens only a tiny bit, your back to him since you're in the middle of throwing up into the toilet.

»You okay?« He asks in a groggy voice but it's apparent that he is concerned. You only manage to groan in response before you have to vomit again and it sounds absolutely gruesome. That's enough for him to walk into the bathroom and help you out as much as he can. He rubs your back gently but firmly before he holds your hair back, not saying anything much. It feels even more embarrassing to you now that you accidentally woke him up, resulting in him helping you out, not saying anything. The throwing up process lasts a while longer before you feel well enough to speak. However, you don't want to. You're too ashamed.

»I told you it was too much." He mumbles before he lets go of your hair and just sits beside you with crossed legs, looking at your groggy state. You manage to sit beside him and glance to his direction for a moment, not sure if you should say something too.

»Sorry.«

It comes out quiet and raspy, feeling the worst you've ever been due to the vomit that just came out of your stomach and the hangover that's already starting to build up over your whole body. He notices that and if he wanted to be honest with you, he almost threw up while holding your hair back too, because of the whole thing.

»Nah, it's fine. Just... do you feel better now? You certainly look... wrecked.« Kyle states while still staring at your face, the badly taken off make up and messy hair, aswell as the eyebags are saying a lot about how you feel now. Honestly, he expects you to hit him for that comment, but you don't. You feel too weak for that now. You just shake your head and sigh, rubbing at your scalp.

»Hm... no.« You don't know what else to say, it's just too embarrassing at this point now. Kyle stands up and offers you a hand which you take, standing up aswell. You're way slower than usual, the hangover taking it's tool on you. Now, you're lent over the sink and wash your face off with cool water with Kyle holds your hair out of your face again.

»I'm gonna bring you water and you lay down, okay? I'll be right there.« He tells you reassuringly after he got you back into your room and sat down. You're honestly very grateful for him, having a lot of luck with such a good roommate like him. After a few moments he's back with a glass of water, handing it to you. You gladly take it and chug it down, making your sore and dry throat at least less uncomfortable now. His eyes meet yours, he's clearly tired but refuses to leave your side until your good again. Your slightly shaky hand puts the glass back down onto your nightstand and you look to him once more.

»I'm fine... just drank a bit too much.« You tell him and he bites down an amused smirk at your words.

»Yeah... anyway, it's six in the morning, go back to sleep. Call me if there's anything, right?« He says, but luckily you don't notice his more amused tone at your state. You nod and he leaves your room, ready to sleep again. You cuddle into your blanket and notice just now that you're wearing his hoodie, having no idea how you managed to get it. But it's soft and smells nice, so you fall asleep pretty fast once more.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　Later that day, you woke up pretty late. In the early afternoon, to be more exact. Carefully, you managed to get into the small kitchen that's connected with the dinner room. Kyle was sitting in the living room, watching some nonsense reality show on the television. He catches you standing in the kitchen, looking at the pancakes that he made earlier for both of you. You don't notice him, your hangover still being there but luckily less aweful than earlier. His bigger hand gently touches your shoulder and makes you almost jump out of your skin.

»Hey- it's me. You okay now?« He asks with a small chuckle and leans against the counter to look at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

»Yeah... better.« You answer him and make yourself a coffee before you stuff a pancake into your mouth.

»Mhm, and you do look better. Was it worth it?«

»What?» You ask back muffled since you're still chewing the sweet pancake, looking back at him.

»The amount of alcohol you took last night, since 'you could handle it'.« He explains with an amused smile, seeing the eye roll of yours that he looked forward to seeing again.

»Shut it.« You wave him off with your hand before you sip on your coffee, sitting down at one of the chairs at the table.

»How did I even get your hoodie? Is that even yours?« It's your turn to ask him questions and look to him with a more confused expression, not able to remember anything after your seventh drink.

»You don't remember? I just gave it to you since I didn't want to look into your closet.« He just didn't want to look into your closet since he felt like invading your privacy with that, also not wanting to know what you're possibly hiding there. You furrow your brows slightly at that, not sure why he wouldn't want to look into your closet. »Okay... thanks.« The coffee tastes really good now after vomiting in the middle of the night and sleeping for more than eight hours, making you not want to question anything further.

[lemonkeiku]

141 (w/ OC) Hidden Talent Headcanon

Summary: Everyone has their own hidden talent. Because it's hidden, no one knows they have it until they accidentally show it to each other. Some of them were very useful, some of them were completely useless.

Warning: none, possible ooc hc, and bad english

Author's note: This is just a random thought that popped into my head. This is definitely headcanon, so enjoy for your entertainment.

🚬 Price : Speaking in high-pitched voice

Captain Price was known for his heavy voice and smoking cigarettes only made it worse. Despite this, he was surprisingly able to speak in a very high-pitched voice. He's not going to sound like himself when he does that. His talent was discovered by the rest of 141 at the most random moment.

At the time, he tried to mock Laswell by repeating her words in a high-pitched voice. It was a shock to everyone, even to Laswell, who, instead of being offended, asked him to do it again.

💀 Ghost : Doing rap

His rapping ability was completely hidden until Soap dared him to recite a rap lyrics. Not just any rap lyrics, it was from Eminem's song. And with his deep voice, he would sound more attractive when he started doing rap. Trust me. He would sound like he was reciting a magic spell at some point but he still did a pretty good job with those lyrics.

He never intended to learn how to rap tho. He just likes hip-hop and sometimes he enjoys it a little too much. He was a fast reader and talker too. Maybe that's why he can do it easily.

🧢 Gaz : Faking Price's signature

This is a dangerous talent. He can't use it just because he wants to. He could get into trouble if he uses it recklessly. People first found out about his talent when 141 needed Price's signature and it was urgent. Price was nowhere to be found and they had tried calling him. Price just said just wait until he's back or just copy his signature from another document. Gaz volunteered to try copying their Captain's signature and surprisingly it came out exactly the same.

From then on, if the situation was urgent and as long as he had Price's permission, he would sign documents that required Price's signature in his absence.

🧼 Soap : Handling spicy food

He surprised everyone with his high tolerance to spice. When I said high, I mean really high. Everyone thought he was just the typical white dude who would think black pepper is spicy. But when Alex dared the 141 to try eat chicken wings with the Da Bomb sauce, only who Soap didn't budge with the spice. He'd say something like, "it's nice" and continue to finish his chicken wings.

That scene made everyone question their whole life. Gaz and Farah, who could usually handle the spice, gave up after the first few bites. Bambi, who eats Korean fire noodles for breakfast, couldn't even finish her chicken.

🎀 Bambi : Classical singing

Everyone knows Bambi has a few talents in arts. The most commonly known is her dancing ability. But only a few know that she can sing. Let alone classical singing. She was never serious when it came to singing, especially in front of others. She'd sing seriously only when she wanted to and that one precious moment was when there was a singing competition in the agency. Her competitive ass wouldn't let anyone win.

She used to learn classical music and singing techniques when she was little, but stopped because she wanted to focus on dancing.

[sofasoap]

Two regrets

Pairing : John Price x F!reader (aka OC Mini MacTavish) Summary: Twice the regret, twice the heartache. Part 4 of Five Times

Warning: Mature themes. if you don’t like the idea of age gap story, turn around NOW.

Thanks to mother of my Mini MacTavish @saltofmercury for lending me the character “Mini” from her story. Go read her “The Favorite MacTavish”  !

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“You miss him don’t you?” Your brother knows you too well.

You tried to put it all behind you. You buried yourself in work. Taking all the extra shifts you can. Started post graduate studies. Anything to let your brain overruns so you don’t have to think about him. This is what you are good at, pushing yourself on with life, until you are utterly exhausted, the only thing you do is get up, go to work, eat, and drag yourself home. Wash, rinse and repeat. 

Your colleagues even try to set you up on a few dates. Few of them are nice enough, but you just don’t feel the connection. None of them want to know your interest. None of them look at you like you are the only person in the room that they want to focus on. None of them spend the time listening to what you really want to say, your opinions on certain events or topics. None of them are Price.

“I've never seen you so unhappy Mini.” 

“.. how did you two do it?” you lean onto his shoulder, whispering. “It was hard. I have to admit.” Soap patted your head. “It took a lot of work. From both sides. We had our fair share of disagreements and fights. We got there at the end.” 

Between the two of you , you are always the one that wears your heart on your sleeve. Action before logic. All the troubles and misadventures that you got into because of it. Soap on the other hand, despite his carefree and casual manners, is actually more observant and calculating. He is always the one that pulls you back, has you on the rein. 

“ THINK before you act Mini.” He always joked he needed to stick that reminder on your forehead. “Don’t act so irrationally.” 

You regretted not listening to him. 

You regret not listening to yourself. You regret ever meeting Price, the only man that can twist your heart like this, leaving a huge hole in your heart and yet, cannot erase him from your mind. 

“How’s Mini? I haven’t heard you talking about her for quite a while.” Price stopped in his tracks when he heard your name being mentioned.

“She’s doing fine. Working way too much for my liking though.” He could just hear Soap’s reply to Gaz’s question. “Even my parents hardly see her nowadays, and she doesn’t live that far away from them.” Hearing a bit of pause and continued on, “ One good thing she has is the determination and drive to push herself on in any situation, but she will run herself haggard someday.”

Price has to force himself to walk away from the door, not to listen to anymore of the conversation.

Soap has stopped talking about his sister after the unpleasant meet up. There were no changes in the professional relationships between them, but knowing Soap, he could feel the slight hostility behind his words from time to time.

There aren’t many things Captain John Price regrets about. He always comes to terms with every decision he makes in life. Always find a valid excuse to justify it, and move on.

With you? He couldn’t. Not even trying to convince himself with the lame excuses of you are a civvie, he is a military man. You are too young for him. You are his suborident’s family.  

He regretted his words as soon as he saw the flash of hurt immediately replaced with anger in your eyes. He regretted sitting there, watching you leave, not stopping you and apologising for the worse failed apologies he had made moments ago. 

Deep down he doesn’t want to admit he longs for you. The only one that can make him forget the atrocities in the world, the dirty works he keeps convincing himself for the good for humanity. That little soft smile you give him every time your eyes meet. Just for him. This biggest regret right now is letting you slip away from his hand, with the possibility of losing you forever.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Twenty Nine

“Because I like the way you say my name.”                The sentence replayed through your mind over the last few days – and the thought of Ghost not ripping Soaps throat out confused you even more. ‘Was Ghost okay with Soap flirting with me?’ ‘Was Soap trying to get Ghost and I to have a threesome with him?’ These thoughts ran over and over in your mind, and you couldn’t tell anyone if there was anything that happened on base. Your mind was occupied with other scenarios going on. Dangerous scenarios.                The last few days were just laying low, but really the team was letting you recuperate from you being drugged. It still didn’t make sense how this affected you and not the man who claimed he was your dad. You do remember asking Alejandro about it and he went on to tell you how it affects people differently and then started on the affects, but then your mind soon shifted to other ‘things’ – not hearing a word he said.                Ghost held you tighter at night and made love to you, passionately. You didn’t dare bring up anything regarding Soap – not wanting to come off that you wanted him or wanted him to even think you were interested in him, but there was that nagging feeling of why Ghost was so calm about it.

               “Price wants to see all of us in the briefing room in five,” Rudy said to me. After my incident with the drug ‘Dust’, Rodolfo insisted that I and everyone else here call him ‘Rudy’. He said he felt like he was in trouble when people called him Rodolfo due to his mother using that when he did something wrong.

               I get up from the empty cafeteria table, the same table Soap approached me at just three days prior and made my way to the briefing room. The base was quiet, and it was eerie considering we were the only ones here. The staff that cooked, was gone for the rest of the day and it was something about this place that just creeped you out – especially when it was quiet.

               You pushed open the doors to the briefing room and everyone had made sure their eyes were on you. You looked around to see you were the only one left. Your eyes find Ghost and he nods his head towards him – letting you know there was an empty seat beside him. You made your way over there to him and sit down. He places his arm on the back of your chair, and you lean in towards him.

               “You smell nice,” you whisper to him as you take in his scent. You always loved the way Ghost smelled – a hint of cologne and his natural musk. Manly and dominant. The chair beside you slides back just a bit when a body took its seat.

               You removed your eyes from Ghost and looked over to see Soap. Your heart started fluttering and your body stiffened. Sure, if you weren’t in love with Ghost, you’d give Soap a shot. He was funny and caring, but you were in love with Ghost and the thoughts you were having of just Soap and of Soap an-

               “Harley, you with us?” Price’s voice rang throughout the room.

               Your head shot up and eyes wide, “hm?” you pause looking like a deer in headlights, “Oh! Yes sir. Sorry,” you chuckle out a nervous laugh as your face flushes.

               You could see Ghost eye you out the corner of your eye, but also took note that Soap cocked his head just enough to see you and placed a small smirk on his face.

               Fuck.

               Price began speaking again, “We have received intel from Laswell that Michael and his men were spotted in Las Almas selling the drug ‘Dust’, but its not just that,” Price pauses, “We have also received word that he is in the slave trade with young girls.”

               Your head shot up. Price nodded to Gaz and Gaz flipped the light switch to the room. A projector was on pointed at the wall, as the pictures of Miachel and his men illuminated the whole room. “From what we know, Michael sells this drug and also administers it to the girls,” he pauses again, “The same drug that was ingested into Harley.”

               Ghost removed his arm from around you and placed it on your thigh, squeezing just a tad to reassure you he was here, and you were safe. You placed your had on top of his and gave a light squeeze back. Soaps breathing became heavier, and you eyed him out the corner of your eye.

               The temperature of the room heated up and you eyed around to see if anyone else was feeling the effects of the Mexico heat. Nobody. Your mind soon picked up where it left off prior to Price interrupting them – To be sure, Ghost would have a problem with sharing you, he was possessive, and you admired that about him. But he gave the okay for Soap to see you naked and touch over your body, even if it was for medicinal reasoning, Soap didn’t suffer any broken limbs.

               But his blue eyes when he stared down to you as you lay there in his lap and how softly he brushed the piece of hair out of your face - “Because I like the way you say my name.”

               “Harley,”

               “Harley…,”

               You felt an arm on the back of your chair again.

               “Harley LeAnne Traywick!”

               You flutter your eyes and shoot daggers at the man who just said your whole name. Price glared at you with concern over his face, “Harley, are you okay? You’re really flustered”.

               You clear your throat as the temperature of the room just went up to the degree of Hell, “Y-yes sir.”

               “The drug can still have an effect on her Captain,” Alejandro spoke up, “I would give it another day and she should be good to go.”

               Price nodded his head and proceeded with the presentation he was giving – you missing over half of it. You go to lean into Ghost as his hand was on the back of your chair to realize his hand was still on your thigh. Your body stiffens as Soap leans close to you and whispers in your ear loud enough to where only you and Ghost could hear him, “What’s got you so flustered Lass?” Soap says dangerously low.

               Ghost squeezes your thigh a bit harder as the hand behind you rubbed soft circles on your shoulder. Thank God you all were sitting at the back of the briefing room so no one could see what was going on, but you just knew everyone could feel the tension. It was suffocating.

               “You think something is on her mind Johnny?” Ghost teases on. Your breath hitches in your throat as you just got your answer.

               “Oh, I’m sure LT,” Soap teases back.

               You clear your throat not realizing it was loud enough to stop Price from explaining the mission you didn’t comprehend any of, “Yes Harley?”

               Color drained from your face as you realized all eyes were on you, “C-can I please be excused so I can get some water?” you stutter out.

               “Very well,” Price agreed, “Lets all take a break. Meet back in five”.

               You quickly stand up and b-line for the door – feeling two sets of eyes on you. You quickly powerwalk your way to the cafeteria and into the kitchen. The industrial restaurant stye refrigerators were stocked with bottles of water, you assumed for the kitchen staff. You grab one hoping they wont mind.

               You crack open the seal to the bottle and chug the bottle of water – your head getting a slight headache from the coldness of the water and how hot your body was. You walk over to the stove and place the water bottle on it as your hands grip the sides of the stove. You close your eyes and lower your head. The thoughts of what happened in the briefing room replayed over and over. Ghosts hand on your thigh while Soap wrapped his arm around you from the back of the chair and softly rubbed your shoulder. Them teasing you and making your knees weak – thank God you were sitting down.

               Your body stiffened when you felt a body press against you and their hands finding your waist. “You okay little mouse?” his voice deep and raspy. Ghost. You quickly turn and wrap your arms around his neck as he grabs your ass to pick you up and sets you on the stove – your face almost level with his.  

               You reach at the bottom part of his mask and pull it up just enough it goes over his lips as you quickly press yours to him. A soft moan escaped from your mouth and traveled over to his as he pulled you closer to him. “Simon,” you breathe out breaking the kiss.

               “Yes love?” he replies as he kisses your jaw and makes his way down your neck.

               You arch your back as he hits those sweet spots you love so much, “I really hate to bring this up, but I’m confused on what’s going on with you and Soap.”

               Ghost stills and slowly pulls away from you with lust filled eyes. “I told you, I like when you call me Johnny, Lass.”

               You gasped as he emerged from behind the wall leading into the kitchen. You swallowed hard as you gripped Ghosts arms harder, not knowing you were doing it. Your eyes darted from Ghosts to Soaps – Soaps eyes telling the same thing as Ghosts, lust.

               “I-I don’t understand,” you say softly, slowly shaking your head.

               Ghost reaches up and cups the side of your face, “I know you have been thinking about Johnny these past few days,” he says dangerously low.

               You gulp.

               You go to speak, but Ghost cuts you off, “I know you have been thinking about the both of us these last few days.”

               “Gh-ghost, I-I just want y-you,” you stutter, “I promise.” That last sentence coming out as a whisper.

               Ghost presses his lips to yours, “Its okay,” he says reassuringly.

               You look back and forth between Ghosts eyes to find some sort of falter and found none, “I feel like this is a test.”

               Ghost and Soap both chuckle, “Baby,” Ghost starts, “You have had everyone you love ripped away from you. Let us love you the way you are meant to be loved.”

               You furrow your brows as tears form in your eyes as they dart over to Soap. His eyes are still filled with lust, but now also with the same soft look he gave you the other day when your head was in his lap. “Trust me Harley,” Ghost continued, “Johnny used to be all I had until you came along. You two are all I have,” his voice becoming shaky.

               You swallowed as you had never seen this side of Ghost. The emotional side of Simon Riley.

               “I don’t have any either Lass. Ghost is all I have,” Soap pauses, “unless you’ll have me too.” Soap saw the hesitation and the fear in your eyes as he approached you. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Ghost stepped aside to allow Soap to take his place. You look over to Ghost and see his eyes glassed over. This sent you over the edge as tears spilled down your face. Ghost was opening up and being vulnerable with you, and that meant more to you than anything.

               He had no one. You had no one and Soap had no one, but at the end of the day, you all had each other. “Trust me,” Soap said bringing your eyes back to his ocean blue ones. You sniffled as you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You were scared, but deep down you knew that Ghost and Soap would fight until their last breath to keep you safe.

               You opened your eyes to find Soap still between your legs and Ghost leaned against the counter across from you and Soap, his arms crossed over his chest.

               “O-ok,” you go to say but stutter, “O-okay,” finally getting it out, sniffling. Soap wrapped his arms around your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck. He wasn’t as tall as Ghost, so you had to hunch over just a bit. Ghost walked up and kissed you on the top of your head and then walked towards the opening of the kitchen.

               Soap pulled back and grabbed your face as his blue eyes stared into your green ones – creating this teal-colored world. You swallowed hard as he pressed his lips to yours and by instinct, wrapped your arms around his neck deepening the kiss. All air was sucked from your lungs as his tongue danced with yours. This new teal world making your heart flutter.

               Ghost voice made your heart jump out of your chest, “We need to get back to the briefing room.”

               Soap helps you down from the stove and you grab your bottle of water. You walk up to Ghost and wrap your arms around him, “Are you sure this is okay?” you ask not knowing how he was feeling after witnessing you with Soap.

               He leans down and grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours, “I promise love, I’m okay. I have you baby.” You press your lips to his once more before pulling his mask back down as you all head back to the briefing room.

               “I have a question,” you say as you stop turning to look at them both. They looked at each other before cocking their eyebrows back at you.

               “Have um,” you hesitate, “Have you two done anything…like with each other?”

               Soap throws his head back and laughs and Ghost answers before Soap could, “Negative.”

               “Theres nothing wrong with men being with men Lass,” Soap approaches you and gets close to your ear – his hands on your waist, “We just prefer the nice, warm, wet pussy that you are going to share between us.”

               You gasped as you caught a glimmer in Ghost’s eyes that made you swallow hard. “Have you two ever done this before?” you pause briefly to ask better, “Shared a woman?”

               “No baby,” Ghost answers as he starts walking to the doors of the cafeteria. “You are the first.”

               You follow behind him and Soap, watching them as they walk. They both walked with confidence and knowing that they both could snap someone’s head without any remorse - especially over you, sent butterflies deep into your stomach.

               All three of you walked back into the briefing room and sat back in the same seats as before. Ghosts hand gripped your thigh again as Soaps arm snaked around the back of your chair and continued to rub soft circles on your shoulder.

               “Alright, lets make a plan on how we should infiltrate this ‘safe’ house,” Price said quotating ‘safe’.

               And this time, you were ready.

[writeforfandoms]

Fast Car 3

Find my Simon Riley masterlist

The end of the last planned fic for the zombie au! Not to say I will never write more, because who knows...

You start to find a new normal in this town. It's... different. But in a good way.

Warnings: Swearing, flirting, these two are bad at communicating, bit of one upsmanship in terms of flirting, feels.

Word count: 1k

Over the next week, you explored the entire town. Word spread fast that you were a mechanic, which had people asking you about all kinds of things. 

You really weren't sure how exactly how a clock worked, but you tried fixing it anyway. 

It worked well enough. That seemed to earn you a reputation, one you'd be happy to run with. 

Except Ghost followed you. Every. Single. Place. You went. He followed you into town every day, a silent shadow stalking you relentlessly. He never said a word to you, didn't even try to be friendly. 

By the third day of this treatment, you weren't sure if you hated Ghost… or wanted to jump him out of sheer frustrated attraction. 

The feeling did not lessen with time. Which left you glowering at Ghost every time you spotted him lurking about, even as you ignored any pooling heat between your legs. 

Look. He was an ass, but he was a good looking one. Big, strong, clearly able and not afraid to throw his weight around. 

And if that was it, you probably would have been able to ignore your attraction to him. There were other good-looking single people in town after all, you could have found someone else to pursue. 

Except he was kind, in small ways. A group of three children swarmed him, clearly used to him and not at all afraid. He took turns picking up the kids and dangling them by their ankles, much to the kids delight. 

You watched all of this from a garage, working on breaking down an engine to pull fluids for the truck. 

The second Ghost looked over at you, you lifted one oil-streaked hand to wiggle your fingers at him. Mostly because you liked poking the metaphorical bear. You refused to be afraid of him. 

(And it was easier to poke fun at him than it was to face your growing attraction to him.) 

He just looked back to the kids, saying something to them before leading them away. Back towards town, probably. You wouldn't be surprised if he didn't trust you around kids. He didn't even seem to trust you around inanimate objects.

You scowled. Damn. Well, guess you weren't allowed to get distracted anymore. 

But you thought about how gentle he could be. Too often for your sanity. 

You blamed the zombies. 

Now if only he'd be less of a jerk… you'd be in real trouble. 

It wasn't long until you were elbow deep in the truck again, alternately whistling and swearing as you worked, oil on your hands and sweat on your face. You surfaced to grab a rag, sort of cleaning your hands so you could get a drink. Gaz's girlfriend was too nice to create extra work for, so you were careful not to dirty the glass, grabbing it with the rag.

Ghost emerged from the house, wearing just a t-shirt and carrying an axe. You paused in your work to watch him, curious. 

You were not prepared for him to set up within easy viewing distance, splitting logs for firewood. 

You nearly spilled your water. 

Fucking hell. That was just not fair! 

You looked down at yourself, considering. You weren't done working yet. You'd have to bathe later anyway. 

Might as well make a show of it. 

It only took a moment to peel off your outer layer, tossing it aside and leaving you in a sleeveless bottom layer. One sneaky look confirmed that Ghost was still working, setting up the next log to chop. So you got back to work, too. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and you pulled yourself away from the truck, surprised to see it had gotten darker. Clouds covered the sky, the temperature dropping quickly. 

You swore, more colorfully this time, and grabbed your things quickly. You needed to run back to town, to get inside before it started pouring. 

You closed up the car at light speed, aware the car had a garage and would be fine. You didn't even bother to dress properly, just ran for the path towards town. 

You hadn't made it far when a shout of your name made you pause. You half-turned to look back, finding Ghost approaching rapidly. 

“What?” You asked, a little irritable, glancing up at the sky almost nervously. It hadn't opened up yet, and mentally you begged the rain to hold off just a little longer. 

“Faster to come inside,” Ghost offered, stopping in front of you. Closer than he normally stood. Close enough that you could see he was still breathing a little hard with exertion. 

“I'll make it home,” you said, not at all sure of that fact. 

“Come inside.” This time, it sounded more like an order. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No.” 

Ghost sighed hard through his nose, muttering something that sounded like “stubborn”. “Please.” It was the single driest, least plea-like word you'd ever heard in your entire life. 

“I'll just go home.” 

The sky chose that moment to ignore your own, much more sincere, pleas. The first fat raindrop landed on your nose, and then the torrential downpour started. Everything got drenched within seconds, you included. 

“Just come inside,” Ghost growled, one hand out between the two of you, though he didn't touch you. 

“Why?” You hadn't meant to say that, but you didn't retract it either. You lifted your chin, blinking rapidly against the onslaught of rain. 

Ghost didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he grabbed you, hand fitting perfectly to your waist, pulling you close until he could kiss you. 

Everything around you ceased to exist. The rain didn't matter, the chill seeping into your skin didn't matter. Nothing but the feel of his lips against yours, the little chafe of his stubble against your skin. 

You opened your eyes slowly to find him close, the brown of his eyes dark in the rain. He didn't say anything else, letting his actions speak for him. 

“Okay,” you agreed, a little fuzzy, running hot despite the cold. “But I'm calling the shots.” 

That was the first time you ever saw him smile at you.

[invadernurse]

Catching Flies (Revised) Ch.11

Eh? Eh??? She's back?

Yep. I am.

If you're unfamilliar with the story: It's an Invader Zim fanfic with a Found Family trope, a slow burn romance with Professor Membrane, and a afab non-binary teacher!Reader (that's really more of an OC than anything at this point.)

Anyways Here's the link to the first chapter. And a link to the master post. And the previous chapter in case you wanna see if that sparks your memory.

Chapter 11: House of Chaos

Overall rating: Teen

Summary: You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That’s what they say anyway.

Teacher!Reader makes the mistake of trying to help the two most troubled kids in your class. This leads to forming a science club, learning some childhood psychology, adopting an alien older than you, and somehow catching Professor Membrane’s interest.

Afab Non-binary Reader;

The reader does have a last name: Nemo– which means no-name.

The Membrane house was a bit different than you expected. You had thought it would be something grand-- a high-tech and sleek home that was the height of both technology and modern architecture. Instead, while it did stand out, it was also more...common. Like an ordinary two story house that was slightly modified but not much. And the inside, while eccentric, was normal. 

Absolutely normal.

It was so extremely weird. 

"So this is your teacher?" A small girl appeared next to Dib, who had answered the door along with Zim. She peered at you through thick eyelashes, a dark look in her golden eyes. "They don't look special."

"Gaz, be nice," Dib warned, shooting his sister a look. "Please?"

You offered a faint smile, a little disturbed by the odd feeling climbing up your spine. You weren't exactly one to believe in auras and energies, yet something about Gaz was decidedly ...different. You vaguely recall Meyer’s words, and could almost believe them. Almost. 

"You must be Gaz,” you greeted after a moment. “Your reputation precedes you."

She briefly looked at your offered hand and decided to glare at you instead. "And?"

Was this really an elementary student? She seemed far more than just a child. You could almost see why Meyers seemed so terrified of her. "...I try not to let my first impressions be tainted by other people's opinions," you said after a moment, gaining a faint smile. More of a smirk, really.

"Wise idea." She dismissed you as she pulled a GameSlave2 from her pocket, already absorbed in it by the time she settled on the couch. 

"Gaz is a terrifying creature," Zim whispered as the boys led you away from the living room and into the kitchen. "I have yet to see another human as formidable as her. Thankfully, as long as you don’t interrupt her video games or get between her and pizza, she will leave you alone.”

“Uh huh,” you said doubtfully, though you couldn’t help but notice the slight awe in his voice. 

“Master Dib! Oh and guests!” A robot rolled into view as you entered the kitchen, and as odd as it was, it made absolute sense for the Membrane home. It wasn’t anything like Zim’s parent-drones, but a blocky kind of robot, a chef’s hat on its head and an oven inside its body. “May Foodio 3000 interest you in an afternoon snack? Pizza rolls? Fruit? Smoothie? A nine-course banquet?” 

“Uh, pizza rolls I guess,” Dib answered distractedly as he set his computer up on the table. 

“Perfect! And for you?” The robot turned towards Zim expectantly, a smile on its simulated face, which Zim glowered at. 

“I don’t want any of your disgusting food,” he waved him off, settling into the chair across from Dib, while you reluctantly took the last seat. 

“Disgusting?” The robot… gasped. Somehow.  “Au contraire! I am the latest Foodio model, able to cook any desired course in a matter of minutes! From delicate baklava to something like a simple corn dog, nothing is too complicated for me! Please, I must insist! What is your favorite dish?” 

“Just order something,” Dib said before Zim could open his mouth. “It’s a fault in his programming, but he won’t give up until he gives you something.”

“Fine,” Zim sighed. “How about, I don’t know, a taco. Meatless!” he quickly added, “And plenty of that one sauce, what does Gir call it again? Flaming poo of death?” 

“Ah! Taco palace’s infamous deathly poo sauce!” Foodio’s eyes lit up as he clapped its hands together before turning to you. “And for you?"

“Uh,” you paused, racking your brain before asking about your favorite snack. 

“Perfect! I will be right back with your food!” 

“Whatever happened to Clembrane?” Zim asked as you watched in fascination as Foodio buzzed about the kitchen, his two hands moving faster than your eyes could keep up. 

“He just disappeared one night,” Dib answered, apparently knowing who (or maybe what?) Zim was referring to. “Which is kinda disappointing, I was starting to like the pudding too. Dad was happy though, he thought it meant he was completely healed from his hallucination.” 

“What?” You turned back, brows knitted in confusion at the last piece of the conversation. Both boys paused, as if caught red handed. 

“Nothing!” Both boys denied instantly, making you even more suspicious. You readied yourself to pry more when you heard a door open. The door just off the kitchen had opened, and you presumed it was to a basement of some sort as Professor Membrane stepped out, wiping some kind of dust off his white lab coat. 

"I figured you boys were ready to start on the blueprints today." Membrane stated as he entered, making you pause. You knew he had expressly invited you, but you were still expecting some kind of negative reaction. Instead, he seemed more preoccupied with a small device in his hands. "I borrowed this prototype from the R and D department. I think it will be quite helpful, and there is only a moderate risk of it self-destructing…" 

Professor Membrane trailed off, and it took a second to realize his attention was on you. You blushed and gave a small wave shyly, which seemed to spur him to action. 

"R-right, Mx Nemo. Sorry, I was, ehem, joking about the risk of this exploding. It's quite minimal, I assure you." 

Did he...stutter? The realization caught you off guard as he settled in between the boys, directly across the table from you. Yet there were no other oddities in his behavior; in fact as soon as the small device turned on, creating a holographic model of the boys' device, it was pure professionalism. 

Well, not pure professionalism. You were delightfully surprised to watch the three discuss the schematics, even if it was completely impossible for you to try to follow along. The discussion of hydraulics, power sources and outputs were far out of your level comprehension, but obviously not theirs. And watching the boys engage positively with someone other than you, someone who completely understood them, was amazing. Professor Membrane was patient to listen to them, and then either agree or explain the flaws or alternatives that would be better. 

After a while, however, you started to wonder what exactly you were doing here. The three were obviously off in their own little world, the two boys actually behaving and arguing productively without fighting or name calling. 

Maybe you should just leave? You glanced up at the clock; it was approaching supper time. You could use that as an excuse, even if Foodio's snack had quelled any hunger. 

"Are you sure we can't add a laser?" Membrane asked almost petulantly, drawing your attention from your thoughts. "It's the most practical means for guidance and targeting."

"You read the requirements," Dib sighed, scratching his head. "No lasers. Plus it would be too much for the battery. We're already pushing it."

"Well if you let me put a fission fuel cell there, we would have enough power for a million lasers to destroy our enemies with!" Zim snarled, frustration evident in his voice as well as the snarling expression on his face. 

Dib sighed and rubbed his nose. "For the last time, Zim. We're not using a nuclear power cell and it isn't a weapon. It's supposed to be for exploration only."

"We would explore our enemy's world first and then destroy them!" 

Zim started with the maniacal laughter until Gaz (who must have entered during the discussion without you noticing) decided it was too much and threw a cookie at him. "It's too early for that, Zim. Shut up."

"Now daughter, throwing food at our guests isn't nice."

"But his voice is so annoying." Gaz made her way from the counter to your side, and you tried not to act unsettled as she glared up at you with squinted amber eyes. "Are you smart enough to be more than cannon folder?"

"Uh…" What?

"We've talked about recruiting others for your schemes, Gaz," Professor Membrane said without missing a beat, his attention not even drifting from the holographic model he was tinkering with. "Besides, Mx. Nemo is hardly cannon fodder."

You swore he glanced at you from behind his goggles, yet you could see nothing but the light reflecting off them. Either way, you were highly curious, and rather disturbed, by what they meant by ‘cannon fodder.’ And the fact they were discussing it as if talking about meaningless death was normal… 

"It's Vampire Piggy Deus Ex Machina 3,” Gaz explained to her father, as if that made perfect sense. Which, it did actually. You were well aware of the Vampire Piggy series. “I need a second player and no one online is volunteering. Their day will soon come where they will regret not offering their sacrifice to me, but first I have to beat this boss." 

"While video games have their benefits, I am sure Mx Nemo likely has more important things to do," Professor MEmbrane sighed before you could say anything. “I can assist you later tonight or tomorrow.”

“But I need it now,” Gaz growled, clenching her small fists. “I have the other side quests completed. This is the only one left! If I don’t get it done now, I will die.” 

"Actually, I enjoy the Vampire Piggy saga,” you boldly interrupted as Professor Membrane sighed at the child’s dramatics. “I haven't played the Deus Ex Machina spin offs yet, but I'd be willing to give it a shot. I haven't been much help to you boys anyways." 

--+--

Was it slightly immature and improper of you to slip away from where your students were working to play videogames with their younger sibling? Probably. Would you have a massive anxiety attack about it later? Undeniably. 

Were you enjoying yourself as you and Gaz cleared out a den of vampiric swine together? Absolutely.

 The girl played far better than you expected someone of her age group with her quick reflexes and keen mind. There was no looking up walk throughs or anything as you put your minds together to figure out the puzzles, or strategize to defeat the Boar of all Vampires. 

It was like a throwback to your college days, making you almost giddy. When was the last time you were able to play a video game? Usually you were so overwhelmed with papers to grade and plans to revise that you never had time to even think about it.

Granted, you still had those left to do, and would regret this come morning. But right now you were enjoying the fleeting happiness and serotonin.

"Gazleen, Mx. Nemo, Dinner will be ready in exactly ten minutes and thirty seconds," Foodio called, and you glanced over, seeing the oven (?) that comprised his middle section glow warmly, though you couldn't see what was inside. "Please find an acceptable place to end the game and join us in the dining room."

"Ugh," Gaz sighed, already opening the menu to save while your gaze shot to the clock. It was a quarter past seven, which was far longer than what you intended. 

You swore under your breath, then winced as you noticed Gaz's cheshire smile, confirming she heard you. "I really should head home. It's far too late and I…"

"No no no! Dinner is nearly complete! I have calculated everything perfectly for everyones over all nutrition and dietary needs!" If it was possible for a robot to look distressed, Foodio looked absolutely panicked as it interlaced its fingers. "Having guests over has been an exciting new experience! Please stay!"

"Don't reject his food," Gaz muttered from your side. "He tends to malfunction when you do and can get a little murdery." 

You quickly looked between the robot and the small girl, trying hard to decide if she was kidding or not. Surely Professor Membrane wouldn't allow a defect like that to be around his children. After all, children could be notoriously picky eaters. 

Or maybe that was the way he got his children not to complain about their food. You couldn't tell if that was insane or brilliant.

"Mx. Nemo, I insist you stay. It's the least I could do to repay you." Professor Membrane spoke as he exited the kitchen, no doubtedly hearing your protest. 

"Y-you don't need to repay me…" you protested, wringing your hands together nervously. It was one thing to visit a student’s house to help with an after-school project…. Then end up playing video games for over an hour. But then to stay for dinner? As Repayment?  For what? "Honestly, I've been unprofessional enough today." 

His head tilted slightly while he crossed his arms. "I'm puzzled, I haven't seen any kind of unprofessional  behavior from you, today or any time before." 

You opened your mouth, already partially gesturing to the large tv where the game system's home screen was still visible, before Gaz grabbed your hand and pulled hard. 

"Just give up now and accept your fate." 

--+--

Surprisingly, dinner was going much better than you expected. It was more like a family affair despite you and Zim's presence, with all three children bickering between mouthfuls of food; something about bigfoot versus yeti which went over your head. Not that you were paying much attention. 

You had taken the seat next to the professor, and subsequently was pulled into an...interesting  conversation.

"Dib had explained how there was a reassignment for the science club," He started, eyebrows knitted in a frown. "I have to admit, that is quite disappointing."

"I know, I was so pi--frustrated," you quickly corrected as three pairs of relatively innocent eyes focused on you, as if they had specialized hearing for forbidden words, "when I was told. Mr. Boltzmann and Meyers made their mind up and I didn't even get a chance to throw my two cents in. I mean, I know I'm not exactly an expert in the scientific field, but no one else was trying. No one seemed to give a damn, and I bet that they still don't. Boltzmann only cares because he has new equipment to play with, and Meyer's a sexist pig who seems to thrive on causing misery." You stabbed the carrot with a little more force than needed, the metal of your fork scratching against the plate. The jarring sound broke through your dark thoughts and reminded you of your surroundings. 

Gaz didn't seem to be paying any attention as she devoured the pizza slice in front of her, while the boys on either side of her were either snarling with rage (Zim) or at least upset on your behalf (Dib.)

But you were more worried with the Professor's reaction to your impromptu rant. While he may somehow find your somewhat unprofessional behavior acceptable to this point, there was no way he wouldn't frown upon such behavior (or language) in front of the children. 

Of course, there was no possible way to study his facial expression; the goggles reflected the light that hung over the table, and the collar of his lab coat still covered everything below the bridge of his nose (though you had sworn you had caught a glimpse of his unshaven jaw while he had been eating. Just a split second of a dark five-o'clock shadow and pale skin. But it was more than anything you had seen on the web.) 

"Those insignificant pigs will cower before us!" Zim suddenly shouted, jumping up onto his chair and holding his spoon as if it were a weapon. "They shall rue the day-"

"Sit down," Gaz snapped, tugging harshly on his oversized shirt to set him off balance. "Be quiet. I'm eating."

"But revenge-!"

"No," you and Professor Membrane echoed one another, causing you to glance briefly at him and then blush. You didn't fail to notice he cleared his throat and adjusted his goggles almost nervously. 

"I'm touched that you feel that way," you started after a moment. "But it would be wrong of you to get involved. You could get in serious trouble, and that is the last thing you guys need."

"Mx. Nemo is right. We'll settle this, and in the meantime we want you to focus on your project." 

It was awkward yet inspiring to have Professor Membrane agreeing with you. Yet, you wondered if there really was anything anyone could do. "Besides, Meyers is sort of right," you admitted with a sigh. "Science and literature are two vastly different subjects. Boltzmann is far more qualified on paper for running a science club."

The outrage for Dib and Zime was instantaneous. "No!" Dib shouted while Zim scoffed.

"Hah! As if!" 

"I have found that just because someone has the right degrees and diplomas hardly means they are qualified for the job," Professor Membrane agreed. "While I have yet to meet this Bolt-man, I am inclined to disagree he is more qualified." 

"Can't a girl just eat her pizza? In peace?" 

[mikasuxxx]

MW2 Random Headcanons part 2

this one includes graves and price

Graves

this man is definitely floridian

like he was a beach boy, like he has old pictures from when he was a teen with a tan

He's southern, and so is his family

They're the epitome of white people, but they're actually pretty nice people

like if you're Graves' girl spending the holidays at his family's place they'll beg you to eat with them and say its no trouble

Truly the southern hospital is strong with his family

He used to go miami and pick up girls from the club, and just have one night stands with them.

He has an older brother who's a professional poker player/gambler

and you can tell because of the big gold chain and the tommy bahama shirts and loafers he always wears (even when its cold he'll still wear them)

He also lives in vegas

He tries to flirt with you but Phillip shuts that down real quick

Phillip used to play baseball in high school, and his girlfriend at the time loved watching him play (but really she just liked how his ass looked in his uniform pants)

His brother played football for a bit

Surprisingly, Phillip was at the top of his class in high school. And he got a car for his graduation gift. a red 1967 chevy impala

that car was his pride and joy

You cant tell me that he wasnt a frat boy in college

Constantly picks up sorority girls in his car, and invites them to his dorm to fuck

Even girls who weren't sororities; atheltes, shy girls, even his professors (but that was when he was like a junior and senior, and he did it because his grades sucked and he was desperate)

What makes him different from other frat boys, is that he takes no for an answer. like hes flirting with you and and you say no he'll back off, no questions asked

He still has friends from college

Okay now to the sad shit: he constantly gets compared to his older brother. mostly by his dad (his mom is a sweetheart and loves both of her sons equally)

His older brother wasnt good at school, was an alcoholic, dropped out of college, the only thing that makes him better in their father's eyes is that he played football, and he's found a way to become rich

Phillip was good at school and sports, won prom king, went to college, had a degree and a decent job and yet that still wasnt enough to please his dad

His dad is...an old fashioned dude. like if phillip has a daughter and he sees him playing with her, he'll call him a pussy

Or even if he has a son and he even so much as hugs him, his dad will also bicker and bitch about him "acting like a mom"

Phillip still goes to family events but avoids talking to his dad as much as possible, or if he's forced too he'll just try to end the conversation

His uncles are alright, somehow. Like they're funny, but not in a misogynistic way. they're still kinda ignorant in their own way tho

His mom is a very good cook. like she actually uses seasoning and stuff (and of course his dad bitches and whines about it)

She wanted a third kid because she was hoping for a daughter, but the dad said he didnt wanna push their luck because he didnt want a girl, so they just stopped at 2 kids

Price

Jokingly calls Gaz his son. gaz is happy about it honestly

He loves kids. like when he had kids he was literally the happiest man alive

Yes, this man is a certified dilf

He has twin girls, both of which he loves to death and will die for them

He's always been able to tell whos who. Hes learned every detail about each one of them

Sometimes they try to gaslight him by switching identities but hes way too smart for that

Twin 1(pretending to be twin 2): "hey dad, can i have some candy?"

"You're [Twin 1], youve already had a ton of candy today"

Twin 1: "..no im [Twin 2] and i havent eaten any candy today"

"You're not fooling me [Twin 1]"

Twin 1: "damn..."

Has a small silver heart locket with their picture in it. he wears it all the time under his uniform

After missions he'll bring them gifts when he comes back from wherever said mission took place

One of them is really jealous and fussy, the other is chill and cuddly

like when they were babies/toddlers she'll screech if she sees Price giving her sister even an inkling of attention

when they were babies, sometimes price would be found on the ground in the living room sleeping with his daughters sleeping in his arms

as babies they would always tug at his mustache

would both freak out if he even so much as trimmed it